


Only Love Can Hurt Like This

by TheOutCastAyh



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Based on a song, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Cute Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mild Smut, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Modern Bucky Barnes, Neck Kissing, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8958043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOutCastAyh/pseuds/TheOutCastAyh
Summary: Spending his first Christmas without the comfort of his friends, Bucky finds the negative points of being alone for yet another Christmas party. It isn't until he meets a person he can relate with on a level, named Steve Rogers, and he doesn't feel so alone anymore. One thing leads to another, and those friendly feelings quickly becomes the unmistakable feeling of love. But some things are harder to realize than others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aye, Ayh here! It's been a while, but I thought as the holidays are coming that I'd spew something I've been working on. I am a crazy person when it comes to holidays, I love, love, love them! So, as a little present please enjoy this little fic I've prepped, baked, and served with sugary feelings. :) Leave a comment and some feedback, and I'd very much appreciate it! Happy Holidays to all, and I hope that you find people to spend it with. As always, remember, that you are loved and important. :) Take care of yourselves.

For the third time today he's heard a variety of different singers on different stations singing _Have Yourself A Merry (Little) Christmas._ The most he could say about it was that he was just about sick of it. There was no snow in New York just yet, but promises of it over the weekend. Even though it was cold and the wind seeped through the windows and cracks of the doors, there was no joyous feeling of Christmas just yet. His friends would call him _Ebinezer_ _Scrooge_ and joke around but - he took this stuff serious. Especially when they picked on him for not having a partner, oh boy. They'd say _hey, Bucky, where's your partner?_ _Romanov's_ _got one._ And oh did they torment him with _you know, this is your second year in a row. Are you even trying?_ He didn't go to the party the next year because he knew they'd pick on him.

 

He'd had a date that year, but they'd ditched out to find another person. Truth be told, Bucky was always taken for granted. This year was the year though, they'd drag him from his bed, throw clothes on him, and they'd force him out of his apartment. He couldn't hide inside anymore, especially around the holidays. He begged and even tried arguing with them, giving mean comments and they knew it was all part of his plan to get away no matter how hurtful he was. They would not, and could not, let him stay inside for Christmas Eve and day, New Year's for that matter too.

 

He'd made sure though, he wouldn't answer his phone, no calls and no texts, he wouldn't answer the door, and definitely made sure to sneak around going to work. Since it was the holidays they'd been closing extra early down at the ship yard. Not enough was coming in, and so they'd sent people home, and closed for the day by seven. He'd said his goodbyes and farewells, driving home, he opened the apartment door. He should've known they were hiding, just waiting for him. He thought he was getting mugged when they'd grabbed him so suddenly, he hadn't even made it through the door when they grabbed him. All three friends.

 

Natasha, the beautiful Russian red head, Clint who took his keys from the door and was already hitting the button to the elevator, and Sam following behind as he threw him over his shoulder. He gave out a wail as the world spun and he wasn't on the ground anymore.

"You thought you could get away, didn't you?" Natasha asked as the elevator doors closed, and they put him down.

He pointed, "I'm not going to another stupid party."

"Come on, Buck, just come with us." Clint said.

"No. I'm not going, and that's it." He said, the doors opening and he made a break for it.

"Where are you going?" Natasha asked, and he walked past his door, peeling up a rug, and opening his door with the extra key. "Bucky, come on."

"Every time I go to a damn Christmas party with you guys, you always leave me behind."

"No we don't."

"Yes, you do." He walked in, and the three followed. He hung up his jacket, turning on the heater.

"Besides the point, you can't just always hide away inside your apartment. You need to get out there, Bucky. Meet people."

"You scare the only friends I make away."

"Name one." Sam questioned.

"Sharon."

"She was bad luck. We were helping you on that one." Clint said, looking in his fridge.

"Look, I just don't want to go out anymore. I don't want to be a part of the club scenes anymore, okay? I have work and home, that's all I have."

"And you need more interaction." Natasha said, "When was the last time you made a friend? A new one? Or - _or!_ Even had a real date?"

"Thanks for the reminder. I'll write it in my books for the reasons I hate Christmas." He stood from the couch, putting his shoes in his room, and she followed.

"Come with us, just this once. There's going to be a little get together before, you know, _we_ leave."

 

How could he forget? Natasha and Clint were both going to Italy for some time on a vacation and won't be there for New Years, Sam was heading back home to his Mama for the holidays too, and he was going to be all alone for New Year's and Christmas day. He was the only one who was going to be in Brooklyn, while his friends were going to be surrounded by the people they loved and cherished. Sam offered for him to come along, and despite Sam's Mama loving Bucky to pieces - he couldn't imagine himself there for two weeks. Unbuttoning his work shirt, and peeling it off, he shrugged.

 

"This is our first Christmas away from Brooklyn, Bucky. The least you could do is spend the days before with us." She said in that bribing, begging voice.

He sighed, glancing at her. "What am I supposed to do while you're all away?"

She pressed her lips together, "I know you'll find someone to spend it with, there has to be someone."

"You guys are the only ones I hang out with. Besides, I don't think Bruce likes me all that much."

"He lives in Manhattan, give him a call or something. I'm sure he'll be glad to join you."

He shrugged, sitting on the bed. "I don't know."

She walked over, combing his short hair back. "Well, whether you join us or not, we'll keep bugging you about it."

"I know."

She smiled lightly, "Besides, we might just find you a date for Christmas." She wiggled her eyes brows and he sighed.

"I hate when you try setting me up with people."

"How come? I pick good people!"

"Good people for you, sure. But - not _my_ type. I'm sorry I can't find shy girls or guys who like being heroic and quiet. Next time, I'll just not try my best in finding the right person for you."

"The right person isn't in Brooklyn. With my luck, they aren't even alive."

"Don't say that. There's someone for everyone." She batted, heading for the door.

"Just like _your_ someone?"

She smiled. "He's special, alright." 

"The special kind that removes his hearing aid on purpose so he doesn't hear you when you ask where he puts your things."

She shook her head. "He's special to me."

 

But that was just the thing about her and Clint. When they were all together it didn't matter if they were at a lunch meeting or out at a party or just having dinner at one of their houses, they would stare at each other suspended in silence and have silent conversation with their eyes. Their eyes and minds connected, and they would just stare at each other and know what they were thinking. It was a true sign of love that Bucky never seemed to have, sure there were spurts of moments where he would stare into his partner's eyes and he would believe it was love, but then it would end along with their relationship. He wished he could have an unspoken, beautiful love like theirs and not know when they would separate because parting would be like death.

 

When they'd finished bombarding him, and eaten his snacks, they left a flurry of messages on his phone when they'd left asking if he would go. He didn't answer them but looked at Natasha's message: _If you change your mind, we'll be at Sally's Pub and Club. Seven o'clock, you'll know where to find us._

 

Turning off his phone, he sighed staring at the ceiling. He couldn't bare another rioting event where he'd sit at the table with nothing to say, no interesting story to say, while the others had stories about the past to blurt, about what happened at work, and about their partners and the stupid, lovable things they had done for the upcoming holidays. He didn't have anyone to talk about, nothing to share because his life was uneventful. It was just work and home, it's how it always was with the occasional dates and one night stands once in a blue moon. That's all.

 

The life of James Buchanan Barnes was just like any other, he only existed, and never _lived._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! Chapter updates! Hope you enjoy, leave a comment, or feedback. It really helps for future writing, on little corrections or just your thoughts on the plot. :) As always, remember, you are loved and important! Take care of yourself. :)

The next night, when he'd gotten out of work, he'd gotten a text reminding him of the event that would commence without him. He dreaded the thought of going, imagining the horrible yet if he did go. Taking a shower, smelling like sweat and packing peanuts, he sat down in his couch and turned on the TV. His living room bare with a blanket drapped over him. There was no Christmas tree there, no decorating lights, no presents to give out or open. It was a depressing scene, with only one man to share even the idea of it. His phone gave a buzz again, just around seven thirty, and he forbid himself from looking at it but it gave two rings and kept repeating until he would look at it.

 

He reached over, unlocking his screen, and looked at it: _Bucky, I know you have other things to do. But just for tonight, could you please give in and come with us?_ It was from Natasha, followed by broken hearts, and he looked to the other. _This isn't the same, let alone that we're all spending our Christmas away from each other. You're part of this family too, you know._

 

He tossed his phone aside, looking to the TV, and sighed heavily. His chest deflating feeling heavy, and he couldn't bring himself to get up. His best friends were leaving for the first Christmas, and who's to say they'll be there next Christmas, or the other Christmases? It should motivate him to get up, but it only brings him down some more. Half leaned down, he could hear the wind pressing in on his windows, and listened to the silence behind the TV. He wasn't surprised that when he was focused in on the movie that _Home Alone_ was playing. That's how he felt, forgotten and not bothered to care. Glancing to his phone again reading over _If you change your mind, we'll be at Sally's Pub and Club. Seven o'clock, you'll know where to find us._

 

He stared at it, and slowly a groan ripped itself from the laziest part of him. Throwing it aside, he threw the blanket aside and trudded towards the bedroom door. Grabbing the first things he saw in the closet, not to embarrass himself he picked out things that suited him, and threw on his blue bomber jacket. Grabbing his keys, he closed the door behind him without even turning off the TV. Down to his car, he sat a moment contemplating whether he should go out or just go back up the stairs and stay. Before he could decide to be alone, he forced the car out of the slot and drove down the road.

 

The air was chilly, colder than a bomber jacket would warm. Turning on his heat, he gave the radio a try and instead was listening to _White Christmas_ by Frank Sinatra. How could he turn down the oldies, sometimes they were the best, right? The hardest part about going to a club around the holidays was finding a parking, and he circled the block a good three times before settling with a parking two streets down just by a one way curb. Hopefully someone wouldn't take a chunk of his fender turning into the tight street.

 

Holding his jacket close to himself, he huddled along as the wind brushed through his hair and against his cheeks giving him a doll look with rosy cheeks and a red tipped nose. _Say It,_ a Clean Bandit remix, was already playing in the club as he entered and he looked among the dark rooms and strobe light dance floors. He'd passed through crowds, excused himself, and looked through every booth. He should've been surprised when he found them in the furthest corner on a little patio, laughing, and throwing their heads back drinking Coke and Rum, and other various drinks. It was like they didn't care that he was gone.

 

Debating on whether to walk up or not, he was trampled into and turned to look.

"I am so sorry." Said the woman behind him, and looking down, she glowed brightly. "Bucky!" She threw her arms up, hugging him tightly. "You came!"

He laughed a little, hugging back. "Yeah, I couldn't miss my last days without you." He said above the music.

She pulled back, "I'm so happy that you're here! When did you get here?"

"Just now." He yelled close.

"Did you find our table? It's over here." She gestured, grabbing his hand. "Come on." Leading him along, they'd reached the table, and they hollered to Natasha's arrival once again. Seeing Bucky, they kind of faltered.

"Look who decided to show up late." Sam picked fun.

"By the looks of it, no one cared." He yelled and Natasha batted a hand at him.

"It's not that we didn't care, it's that we couldn't afford to care." Said an ignorant voice he didn't quite like.

"You remember Tony? He came down for New Year's." Natasha said closely.

Bucky looked to him, sitting there in a good looking suit, beard groomed neatly, and glasses sharpening his snake eyes. He sipped a margarita elegantly, his pocket square bright red compared to his smooth, grey stripped suit.

"He was in New Jersey, thought he'd drop by when he heard there was a party."

"Who invited _him?"_ He asked.

Natasha looked over his shoulder, saying lowly. "Sam. They're pals, just try to be nice."

Sitting down, he looked among the table. At the end across sat Natasha and Clint, and all around the table to their left's were Sam, Tony, a friend they called _Thor_ but his real name was Asthor, and him. All wedged with a comfortable space between. He'd only met Thor once or twice in that year, not close enough to have a drink with, but tonight seemed the exception.

"You missed out." Sam called, "Clint here downed half a pint of Jack Daniel's and half a lime."

Clint smiled proudly, hearing aid out and reading lips clearly.

"Highlight of the night, guess I missed it." James said sarcastically but no one caught it but Natasha and Tony.

"You missed a lot. What brought you here tonight?" Tony asked, "You don't seem like the party type."

"I stay away from the scene, tonight's an exception." He said, asking himself why bother in answering. Stark was all sarcasm and ignorance.

"How about a drink?" Sam questioned.

Bucky waved his hand, "I'm driving home."

"Sam's our driver for the night, cool off for the day." Clint insisted.

Sam shook his head, "This is our first Christmas away from each other, better make it a damn good one." Sam raised his glass, "To adult hood."

They raised their glasses and Bucky didn't have anything to raise so he sat there, empty handed, and feeling out of the circle. Tony eyed him from over the rim of his glass, and Bucky ignored him.

"Who's up for dancing?" Sam questioned and Natasha opted. The three stood and Natasha held out her hand to Bucky.

"Come on." She smiled so beautifully.

But he had to wave his hand. "No thanks."

She frowned.

"I'll take the next song."

"You better promise." She pointed at him as Sam grabbed her arm, and they weaved through the crowd.

He sat with the other strangers in waiting, Thor was rather pleased with sitting there, and enjoyed the room around him as he drank his jug of beer. Tony leaned forward, and it caught Bucky's eyes, but he didn't look.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked, and Bucky looked at him.

"Excuse me?"

He gestured to the club, "This is a place of fun, what crawled up your ass and died?"

Bucky frowned at him, "What makes you think you can decide my life?"

"All I'm saying is that you're bumming out the others, they were just fine when you weren't here."

Thor sat between them, drinking his beer, and glancing nervously between them.

"You don't know them."

"In just this hour, I've come to know them more than enough." He shrugged, "I don't know. You turn their positivity into something else." He gestured, and shrugged again. "I mean if you get offended by that - obviously I'm right."

Bucky stood, and pressed his hands on the table. "I'm not going to waste my time on someone who's self worth is less than the trash they throw away. You know what you are, you act all big and bad when you're less than what you say. You're probably just as alone as half these schmucks in here, and so help me god, I will be there when someone puts you in your place one day." He stood up, and walked off in flaming anger.

Tony scoffed, twirling his umbrella in his margarita. "What a drama queen." He said, downing it, and looked to Thor. "Am I right?"

Thor smiled awkwardly, and looked to the dance floor scooting away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a dick, that Tony guy! Who does he think he is? A genius-playboy-billionaire-philanthropist? Maybe.. :) More to come!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

Bucky had sat himself at the bar, head held up by his hand as he played Unblock Me on his phone, pushing the blocks around to free just that one red one. He'd been there long enough to reach level 178, drinking Coke out of a straw absently. Bored out of his mind, he sat up, pocketing his phone, and looked around. Natasha or the others hadn't found him, and he wondered if what Tony said was true. That maybe they didn't care about him because he was a Debbie Downer around the holidays. It wasn't his fault really, he just had bad experiences with holidays, and grown a hate for them.

 

Sighing, he took a sip from his cup again, and stared at the mirror across from the bar stools. Behind the racks of drinks strung up on the walls, there was a mirror staring back at him and he saw the same lonely face he'd seen when he was home, and shaving and his shower. Staring into his own eyes as the room around him moved, he looked strange. The only seat that was empty was the one beside him and that changed quickly when someone dropped themselves into it, and gave a heavy sigh. Bucky stared at him as if to say _How dare you_ but he didn't. The man beckoned the bartender over and asked for a margarita, when the little umbrella was propped in his drink, Bucky expected him to leave. He didn't.

 

Maybe he was escaping from something too.

 

His shoulders were hunched forward, a black jacket on, dark jeans, and a white tee shirt from what Bucky could see through the mirror. The bar stools weren't that distant from each other, an inch or two from Bucky touching shoulders with the guy, and he could smell a faint musk of cologne. It wasn't freaky, he was just curious. He looked worried, tired maybe, and leaning in his hand he took a sip from his cup never once looking up or to his seat buddies. Bucky looked around to the crowd again, looking at his phone, and sipped his Coke. It was only eight forty five, maybe he should have gone home and just forget the whole thing. The man too checked his phone, and almost mimicked Bucky's prior state. Slouched forward, elbows on the bar top, eyeing his drink with boredom as he twirled the umbrella in his cup.

 

Bucky figured he was a guy who didn't want to be bothered, but wondered about the possibilities of meeting new people. That's what the night was about anyways, not being with his friends the entire time but meeting people and bonding or something like that. He leaned forward, hands cupping his drink, and cleared his throat.

"Let me guess," he said, and the guy to his left was too into a conversation to care, but the other looked. "You came here with friends and you ducked out?"

The man looked up, and was confused for a moment. Bucky had never seen such a face with high cheek bones, blue eyes, and just such a handsome man before. He was caught for a moment, but took a breath when the man spoke back smoothly in a tone of caramel. "Something like that."

Bucky nodded, not meeting his eyes again. "Something like that." He mumbled, _and that would burn the conversation to an end, game over_ , he thought.

He kept talking though, "You see that pair over there?" He gestured to the dance floor and directed Bucky's eyes until he found a couple standing close together, the girl fondling the man's open shirt, and he smirked down at her. "Came here with a date, and turns out I don't really know what a date is anymore I guess."

Bucky hissed in false hurt, "Ouch."

The man nodded.

"It's like you can't find dependable girls anymore, can you?"

The man paused, "I came here with the guy."

Bucky stared, "You didn't let me finish. Dependable girls _and guys."_ He added.

The man chuckled, and leaned his elbows on the bar like Bucky. "What about you?"

"Oh," Bucky waved his hand shooing it away, whatever _it_ was, "Came here alone, but joined some friends. Turns out they invited this guy, _total_ dick head," he exaggerated the word, "Told me I was better off without being a weight to them."

"And you let him say that in front of your friends?"

"He didn't say it in front of them, they walked off, and he said it."

"That isn't nice."

"No, it isn't. But the world isn't a nice place," he gestured with his half empty cup, "And that's not even the saddest part."

The man listened.

"I just walked off, and they haven't come to find me this entire time. Got here around seven thirty," he held out his phone showing his lock screen with a picture of him and his past dog Betty, may God rest her fighting soul, his arms wrapped around her golden furry chest, and her little Golden Retriever face smiling sitting out in a field up in Central park. The man smiled nonetheless. The phone showed it was going to be nine soon.

"That's rough." The man said, and Bucky shook his head.

"They've known him for a month, and I've known them for years. He had the audacity to say he knew them more than me."

"Sounds like you need some peace and quiet."

"Got a pocket of it?" He leaned on one arm, and faced him. "The things I do for people." He mumbled.

Suspended in momentary silence, he held out his hand forwardly.

"James Buchanan Barnes." He said.

The man shook his hand, "Steve Rogers." The man before him was kind, easy going, and beautiful. His hair combed back, blue eyes bright, and smile pleasant. It was the highlight of his night being able to just talk to someone in the club and not get hit on, at least he wasn't the only one dangling from a thin rope tonight.

He pointed to the pair, "I don't mean to pry but, how'd you meet such a dick?"

Steve shook his head.

"Pun not intended." Bucky said, and Steve laughed.

"We met online."

"First mistake, go on." Bucky said.

Throughout his explanation, Bucky would say things making Steve chuckle or shake his head smiling. "And we had our first date last month."

"Where?"

Steve stared, "Curious?"

"Yeah. I want to know what it's like."

"For what?"

"To know such a scumbag."

He laughed again, "I didn't know he was one until tonight."

"How long ago did you abandon him?" Bucky asked.

" _He_ abandoned _me."_

"His loss." He sipped his drink, and shrugged when Steve stared at him in some kind of way with a pleased smile. "So?"

Steve sighed, moving his shoulders a little like a little dance, and settled into leaning slouched forward against the bar again. "We got here, ordered drinks, and I'd been to the bathroom for a while waiting in line. When I came back, he was gone and found a girl to hang out with."

"He definitely isn't going back home with you."

"Sure as hell is not." He said, "Even if he were, I wouldn't talk to him."

"You shouldn't let him in period."

Steve looked to him.

"He stepped over the line the moment he started talking to someone else, when you're dating someone you stay loyal to them, and no one else. I think that even if it was a friendly _hello,_ that I'd be offended in some way because their loyalty doesn't reside with closed relationships to just one person."

Steve stared, and Bucky shrunk down to about the size of a pebble looking down at his drink giving a shrug.

"I don't know, that's just what I think. You can think your own thing." He said, batting his hand dismissively, and shied away.

Steve nodded, "No, it's good advice. It's common sense, you're right."

Bucky nodded, "Of course I'm right." He said wittily.

Steve smiled, "What about you? I mean, I've heard the whole story about why you're over here but," he paused, "What's with the whole - _separation_ thing?"

"What?"

Steve called for another drink, and waved his hands. "You could go back there with your _real_ friends and forgive that guy for what he'd said, or down right expose his demeanor," he pinched the neck of his new drink when it came. "But instead you sit over here alone, drinking, and don't bother. I think what ever that guy said was kind of right, and maybe you're running away from it because you're embarrassed."

Hearing it from someone else, he still didn't like it. Giving a frown, he turned forward and Steve did what anyone did when they'd offended someone.

"I'm sorry if I'm being rude." He said, "I'm just rambling off whatever. I didn't mean it."

"It's alright." He said, and kept that frown as he stared forward.

Steve stared forward too, staring at the mirror, and to Bucky's face.

"I mean, he's right." He mumbled, "But that doesn't give him a right to say that, he doesn't know why I'm like this close to the holidays."

"No one does until you tell them." Steve opted, and Bucky glanced at him.

"He doesn't deserve to hear my story."

Steve nodded, "If that's how you feel."

Bucky nodded, and looked to the mirror. At the same time, Steve did too, and they both stared. Then Bucky broke, "Wait, I know why _I'm_ still here, why are _you_ still here?"

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me. I've heard a lot of crazy things."

"Correction: You wouldn't care."

"Who says I wouldn't care? I care a lot about things!"

Steve laughed, and shook his head again. "I want to get payback on the guy, but I don't think it's morally right."

"Of course it's right! That dick head deserves to know what he lost!" He pointed, "I'll find you about three guys who would date you on the spot."

"Three? Wow. Don't I feel special?"

"Better than nothing, right?"

"You're right."

Bucky thought of it, "How about we make that dick head realize what he missed out on, make him want you back, and all's done and well?"

"What if I don't want _him_ back?"

"Then make him want you." He gestured. "First, you got to look confident. Like you could pick anyone in this club to dance with, and bring home."

"And I wouldn't."

"It's pretend." He said, and Steve rolled his eyes. "You go out there on the dance floor, be as confident as you can be, and you make sure to look him in the eyes with every person you rack up."

"No, no. I can't." He waved his hands.

"Why not? You wanted to show him who's boss."

"I'm going to stay right here, and I'm going to drink this." He said, "I'm not going to disturb anyone else's night."

"Oh, come on!"

"Hey, just a few moments ago you were being Debbie Downer."

"That was before we hatched this plan."

"We?"

"Yeah! Sure! Now, come on. Go out there and show him what he'd dropped for that knock off hand bag."

Steve stared at him, and Bucky shooed him away. Standing up, he groaned. "I'm not doing this for him."

"He doesn't deserve anything, just a punch in the throat."

Steve laughed, and still stayed.

"Well, go on then."

"No, no-." He said, backing out again, going to sit.

Bucky put his hand on the seat, "If you sit down again, I'm going to punch _you_ in the chest."

Steve placed a hand on his chest feigning hurt. "How hurtful."

Bucky put his finger up, and drank down the rest of his Coke, standing up he gestured to the floor. "Come on."

"No-." He said, stepping back, and Bucky shoved him along. "Come on. _James_. Really, we don't have to do this."

"I say we do." He said, getting Steve walking just until the dancefloor dropped down a step, and they stood above the crowd. "You'll be fine, just get his attention, and keep it on you."

"And how am I going to do that?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "Try and make the biggest conga line, I don't know."

Steve laughed, and Bucky gave him a shove. They stood at the same height when Steve stepped down onto the crowded floor. "I don't know what I'm doing." He said.

"Be bold, and the center of attention."

Steve shook his head, thinking of all the things as why he got dragged into this. He backed out again, and Bucky sighed.

"Look, it's not that hard." He said, "I'll show you." He shrugged watching Steve and he navigated through the crowd.

Steve watched him with his arms over his chest, and shook his head. Bucky would've been mistaken for the center of attention there in the crowd, he was swarmed in a matter of minutes, and he'd found a partner to dance with. He'd smile and they'd smile back, all matter of absent minded dancing and no grace he enjoyed himself there for the while. Stepping out, he stepped beside Steve with heat beating off of him. He gave such a radiant smile, and looked to the pair.

"See? That easy." He said, yelling close being by the music.

"I don't know. This is all so stupid."

"You wanted to show him, right? Have payback because he'd ditched you for another girl?"

"Not anymore." Steve shook his head, "I'm going to head back to the bar." He said.

Bucky grabbed his wrist as another song started, and seeing as they had the guy's attention from standing where he could see, Bucky pulled him into the crowd. "You've got his attention, make him know what he's missing now." He said, and Steve looked up to where he'd been standing. "Don't back out now."

Bucky pulled him into the crowd, and found a small space to dance. Facing the guy, Bucky glanced over Steve's shoulder and leaned in.

"I think he's wondering how quickly you found someone. Maybe your little cherades to be proper is being taken for granted."

Steve shrugged, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Dance, please don't tell me out don't know how to dance?" He said, grabbing Steve's shoulders shaking them. "For Christ's sake, you're hopeless."

"You're the one who dragged me out here. I didn't say I was a good dancer."

"Bounce then." Bucky said, "Please don't tell me you don't know the simple dances to bouncing?"

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?" Steve asked rhetorically.

Bucky shrugged, glancing over his shoulder again, and the man never stopped looking. "What's his name anyways?"

"It's unimportant now."

"Unimportant-now. You know I've never heard that name before."

Steve laughed, and Bucky smiled.  "Very funny."

"I am, aren't I?"

Steve smiled, and it dimmed a little. "What is he doing now?"

"Well, he's leaned against the little wall, his arms full of _her._ Doesn't look like he cares much anymore, he's looking at us." He said.

"Maybe he's looking at you."

"Why?"

Steve shrugged, "I have to say that throughout my life, I haven't met anyone who was more beautiful than you. And that's honest truth."

Bucky smirked, and felt a little hot about it, "I'll take it as a compliment. But I've got to say," he said, "I haven't met anyone who's so smooth with their words than you."

Steve smiled, "It's just the way I talk."

"Right, and you get _all_ the guys."

"Sometimes girls."

"Cocky now, aren't we?"

Steve laughed, eyes crinkling, and Bucky liked the idea of Steve laughing so hard his stomach hurts, and tears in his eyes. He _was_ beautiful.

Bucky glanced back over his shoulder, and the guy was glancing between Steve and the girl. "He's losing interest."

Steve went to glance over his shoulder but Bucky turned him away.

"Don't look! You'll blow it."

"I wanna see."

Bucky held his chin, "You can not look. You'll only be tempted to go back to that piece of trash right after he's done with that one." He gestured lightly. "Just follow my lead." He said, keeping an eye on them, and standing closer. Throwing his arms over Steve's shoulders, Steve stared at him, and kept swaying as they moved.

"Well then-."

"Don't get too excited." Bucky mocked.

"If you wanted to go out with me, you could've just asked."

Bucky smirked, "Who likes a guy with everything on the table? People like to be teased." He said, feeling and smelling Steve's breath on his face. It smelt like sweet fruit punch margaritas, and candy. Bucky felt Steve's hands on his sides, and they fit firmly against his hips. His elbows hung over Steve's shoulders, hands clasped, and they danced with their chests just inches apart.

Staring at each other, so close, and so hot on the dance floor, they'd forgotten about the people around them and about the back stabbing traitor among them. Steve spoke, close and loud enough. "Do you think I can pull off that I'd met someone in the club and that I'd forgotten about him and our month together?"

"I don't know. Do you care if I say the truth?"

"If the truth hurts then so be it."

Bucky leaned forward, saying it into his ear as their chests touched. "If I didn't know already, I'd say you still care about him even if he did cheat on you. The thing is is that he doesn't care, because maybe he never did. The world is a cruel thing, and we go out there with big expectations. That's what gets us hurt, hope that we'll all end up having a fairy tale ending like in the books and movies." He pulled back, and stared into his eyes.

He'd never seen things so damn calm and animated like waved crashed into a reef of rocks. He leaned forward, pressing his hand into his back between his shoulders, and the other on his lower back. "Would it be so bad that I forgive him?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. It's our nature to forgive people who hurt us, because we don't want to end up alone again."

"Is that how _you_ feel? You don't forgive that guy who said those things but you're going to anyways because you don't want to lose your friends?"

"I don't have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice."

"I never have a choice. It's always _do_ and never _choose."_

"You had a choice to stay here or leave after he'd said those things. So, what was your reason to staying?"

He shrugged, propping his chin in Steve's shoulder. "I thought they'd notice I was gone and they'd look for me, and we'd go somewhere else."

"Hours later, and you still believe they'll come back for you?"

"They're all I have left, that's why I can't leave Brooklyn."

"I think you need to make new friends. One's you won't regret."

"I have bad luck with things, I won't find any more friends than them."

"You found me." Bucky pulled back, "So you have some luck left."

"And how long before you go away too?"

"I'll come back and leave whenever you want. I never leave anyone behind, they always leave me."

 

Staring at each other, the song ended, and the crowd cheered as the DJ spoke. It seems like they both leaned forward at the same time, and met in the middle for a kiss. Sparks didn't fly, and fireworks didn't light and explode into the sky. Steve closed his eyes, his long lashes laid against his cheeks, and pulled Bucky closer. Bucky glanced at his closed eyes, pinching the hairs at the base of Steve's neck, and blinked. Pulling apart from each other, they leaned their foreheads against each other's, and took a moment to breathe. Bucky pulled away first, his lips still tasted like candy and coke mixed together.

 

He stepped away, "I think I need a drink." He said, and without a look back he paved his way through the crowd.

 

Steve looked around for his ex-date and he wasn't anywhere to be seen, scooting his way through the crowd, he looked to the bar where Bucky sat himself again and held his head up with his hands. With eyes closed, he looked distraught as if the kiss had meant the end of the world. Reluctantly, Steve lingered away watching Bucky from a distance now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. My hand slipped.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! Chapter update. I hope you enjoy! Leave a comment of feedback, or kudos. Much appreciated that you guys like this so far. :) More to come. And as always, remember, you are loved and important. Take care of yourself, please. :)

Bucky had ordered a couple of shots, and a Berlin Sour on the side. By the time, Steve found his way back, Bucky had already had a round and a half of six shots, and his Berlin Sour had been drunken. Bucky glanced to him, and stared down at his shot like it has _so_ interesting. It was already ten o'clock, and his friends had gone home. He sat there, alone once again, without a care in the world. He scoffed.

"I thought I was suppose to come here with my friends," he said, a slur in his tone. "But - they've all gone home now." He smiled at Steve. "And I'm _here_."

Steve stared, and watched him.

"I'm _here,_ and they're -," he furrowed his brow, "There. Why are they there and not here?"

"I don't know." Steve said.

"I don't know either." He threw his hands up, "That's the problem. I just don't know." He shook his head, "Ya see, _this_ is why I stay home and go to work. Because - people."

"What about them?"

"You can't trust them." He said, "They promise things they know they won't keep, and yet they say it anyways. So, they go out calling people hypocrites. When in all reality," he sat back, furrowing his brow, and extending his hands out in front of him, "They're the hypocrites. Isn't that funny?" He smiled, giving a laugh, and leaned towards Steve. "Right? It's funny?" He leaned his cheek on Steve's shoulders, sighed. "Why aren't you laughing?"

"I don't think it's funny."

Bucky sat up, looking at Steve. "I didn't mean it." He said, pressing his hand on Steve's arm. "I honestly, truly, - _honestly_ didn't mean it." He pressed his lips together in a thin line, and stared at Steve for a moment before raising his hand and touching Steve's hair. "You know, I think it's pretty cool that you like boys." He said, "Girls, they're no fun anyways." He said, giving a smile.

Steve gently grabbed his hand, and put it onto the bar top. "I think you should stop drinking now."

"What? Why?"

"You're drunk already. You're going to wake up sick tomorrow."

"I'm fine. I'm fine." He said as Steve pushed the still full shots to the person beside him, and Bucky grabbed another.

Steve watched as he threw it back, and a drip fell down his chin. Bucky put the cup down, and licking his chin as much as he could and wiped his mouth after.

"See?" Bucky smiled, all teeth, and closed his eyes. "Fine." He sniffled.

"How about we get you some water, and I bring you home?" He said, bidding the bar tender over and paying for a bottle of water.

"Bring me home? To your house?" He asked as Steve pushed off his seat, and turned Bucky's stool around.

"No, to yours."

"Scandalous." Bucky laughed and Steve pulled him up to his feet.

"Come on, bud." He said, "Can you walk?"

"Nope." He laughed, and they stumbled along as they got to the door. Walking out, Bucky let out a holler and laughed as he threw his arm up. Steve holding the other, and his arm wrapped around Bucky's waist.

"Did you come in a car?" Steve asked.

"Did you fall from Heaven?" Bucky asked, "You're so _damn_ \- beautiful." He said, cupping Steve's face, and pressing his forehead against his temple.

Steve sighed, and looked around. "Can you stand for a moment?"

"I am standing."

Steve leaned Bucky against the nearest wall, and uncapped the bottle of water. "Drink."

"Where are we going, Steve? Can we go back inside? I want more drinks."

"Drink this and I'll consider it."

"But I don't want it."

"Drink." Reluctantly, Bucky grabbed the water almost dropping it, and drank back some. Steve capped it again, and put it into his jacket pocket.

"Can we go inside now?"

"Yeah," he said, and Bucky leaned off the wall. Crouching down, Steve picked Bucky off the ground, and cradled him. "Over my dead body." He mumbled, and Bucky gave out a kiddish wail.

"Up we go." He said, and Steve began walking along. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's neck, peppering little pressed kisses into his cheek, and jaw line. "You're so strong." He quipped, "Do you pick up all the guys like this?" He joked. "Get it? Pick up guys? Like pick up lines."

"Lord help me, I picked a time to be at the club and have the talking drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I'm fine." He said, "I can walk, put me down."

"No. We're not walking, you're staying right there until we get there."

"But I'm fine." He laid his head on Steve's shoulder, and curled up. "I'm fine." He whined.

"You're fine, alright." He said, and walking along he could feel Bucky's body heat against his chest and arms. His head warm against his neck, and he leaned his cheek against his forehead. He'd quieted down, and his fingers fumbled absently with the buttons on his jacket.

"Stevie, where are we going?" He asked, "I'm tired." He said.

"You'll be in bed in a moment, just stay awake with me."

"I can't, my eyes are closed." He said, balling his fist against his chest. "I'm tired." He whined.

Turning onto a curving path, he opened the door as best as he could, and pressed the button to the elevator. Bucky breathed calmly against his chest, shuffling every once in a while to fix his head on his shoulder, his eyelashes blinking against his neck to say he was fighting sleep. Getting up to his floor, he stepped out and luckily a neighbor was out.

"Stevie." Bucky mumbled again, "Where are we?"

"My place. You'll get to bed in a bit." He said, and his neighbor looked at him.

"Well, well, isn't it a little late for you to be out?" She said, she was an older lady, close to seventy, and she loved him to death. "Who's this?"

"A friend of mine."

"I'm tired." Bucky reminded.

"He's tired," he said, "And drunk. I'm just putting him to bed."

"Well, alright. Don't let me bother you." After she'd fetched the keys from his jacket pocket, he unlocked the door pushing it open, and wedged through. Closing it after him, they were in darkness.

"I think I have my eyes closed." Bucky said.

"The light isn't on." Steve said, finding the switch, and Bucky had his eyes open. "There we go. Home sweet home."

"Home sweet home." Bucky mimicked.

"Alright." Steve looked around, and thought for a moment, holding Bucky closer as he shuffled. He wrapped his arms around Steve's neck, head over his shoulder, and Steve stood still as he sighed into his neck. "Alright." He said again, and started for the bedroom.

His room wasn't much, tan walls, and white wicker furniture. A white solid dresser by the left wall with white wicker drawers, a small wicker stand under a wicker lined mirror, white doors to the closet, and yellow curtains covering the windows. It was a lot warmer than Bucky's apartment, but as far as Bucky knew - he was home. Walking over to the queen sized bed, Steve sat down on the bed, and lowered Bucky's legs to it. Peeling his arms off, Steve gently laid him down, and untied his shoes, taking off his jacket, and tucked him under.

Bucky curled into the pillows and fabric softener smelling blankets, they smelt like the cologne Steve used, and like fruit scented shampoo. Steve put the water on the night stand, and looked down at Bucky.

"Do you need anything? Water, change of clothes?"

Bucky didn't answer, half asleep already, and Steve smiled softly. Reaching up, he gently combed his fingers through Bucky's hair, and even in sleep he leaned against the soft touch. Standing up, and turning off the light, he glanced back to the sleeping, curled up bunch of human limbs, and slept on the couch that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve "I-care-so-much-about-Bucky" Rogers to the rescue! :) Stay tuned for tomorrow's update!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! Another update for this story, I've had a blast today at family reunions. But to be honest, they're kind of sad.. I don't know how to describe it, it's just - human in not being able to connect again. But don't worry - I'm writing, so I'm happy! :) Merry Christmas, Happy holidays, and all that jazz. I hope that you're surrounded by your loved ones, and making memories. Enjoy, and as always remember that you are loved and important. Please take care of yourself. :)

Bucky slowly stirred as he was waking up, a little headache in the back of his head and behind his eyes. Slowly, he uncurled under the soft, suede blankets and opened his eyes to the brightness of the room. Light bouncing off tan walls, and yellow curtains - he paused. This wasn't his house. This wasn't his full sized bed with his thin comforters, or his flat pillows stacked on top of each other. This wasn't his mix and matched furniture he didn't care to match, or his old curtains he'd had closed since the middle of summer. He heard music playing from behind the cracked doors, and humming.

 

Slowly, he sat up and stared around for any reference as to where in God's name did he end up. Taking the water bottle off the side of the nightstand, he uncapped it looking around to the door and the closet. It peeked open, and there was no breeze against the doors. Footsteps followed along the hall, and the door pushed open. Both froze, Bucky more than anything.

 

Steve met his eyes, and paused a moment. "Oh, you're awake." He smiled, "Good morning."

Bucky stared, "Good morning." He mumbled.

He spoke again first, "You're probably really confused."

"You think."

Steve walked up, holding out his hand, and holding pain reliever pills. "For the headache."

Bucky took them in hand, glancing up, "Thanks."

Steve nodded, and stepped back. Both in silence, Bucky glanced to Steve again, and furrowed his brow.

"Be honest with me."

"Yeah?"

"Did anything happen? Between us last night?"

Steve laughed, "No, no. Nothing. I'm sure of it."

Bucky nodded.

"You weren't really in the state to drive home, so I just -," he shrugged.

"You brought me to your house and let me sleep in your bed."

"Yeah." He pointed behind him, "Slept on the couch."

Now, Bucky felt a little remorse, but Steve didn't seem to mind.

"I didn't want you driving home, and end up getting into an accident anyways. Didn't know what to do, so I just came home." He said, putting his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He looked rather comfy in a zip up sweater and sweatpants, he looked like the apartment felt. Like home. "Besides, I kind of made breakfast for two. So," he trailed off.

"Oh. You," he paused, "You want me to stay for -?"

"Breakfast, yeah."

Bucky held up his hands, "Look, I don't want you to get the wrong impression and everything but staying the morning after is - it's a little weird."

"I only asked you to stay for breakfast, I didn't ask you out."

"Close enough."

Steve nodded, and Bucky retracted into his own skin seeing that look on his face. Like he'd just hurt the puppy that was Steve.

"What'd you make?"

Steve looked at him, and smiled a little. Gesturing to the door, he walked after it and looked back to Bucky. Slowly he stood, gaining his balance, and walked over with the little ease he had. Steve led the way, and into the kitchen there was a buffet.

"Geez, Steve." Bucky said, "Who're you feeding? A bus full of football players."

Steve smirked, "I'm only feeding you and me." He said, placing down the two plates of eggs sided with home made hash browns, half strip bacon, and sausages.

"Do you always eat this?"

"No," he smiled as Bucky walked over and he pulled out the chair for him, "Friday's are pancake days." He smiled like a child would, all teeth, and squinted eyed. Walking to his seat, he pushed in, and their knees barely had space under the table - not that either minded.

"Don't you say grace?"

"Why?"

"You're a saint."

Steve clasped his hands, closing his eyes, and smiled that goofy smile. "Dear Lord, thank you for this meal today. And that we can share it under the Brooklyn sky, on this cold, freezing morning. And that we can get through today, without throwing up the booze we had the night before. Amen."

"That was beautiful, Rogers." Bucky sniffled, wiping his fake tears.

Steve smiled, digging in.

"So, what'd you do after I knocked out?"

He shrugged, "Read for a while."

"Reading? What century is this?"

"Ha ha." Steve said, "You know Ernest Hemingway once said " _There is no friend as loyal as a book"_."

"So, you don't have friends or books."

Steve puckered his lips, giving a playful pout, as if saying _I'll get you for that_. "You're a punk, you know that?"

"And you're a jerk."

"What for?"

"Well, for one - you sweep a guy off his feet, take him away to your apartment, and make him have breakfast with you without asking a single thing of him."

"Am I supposed to?"

"I don't know."

"How come?"

"No one's done that before."

"Make you breakfast?"

"No," he paused, suddenly solemn, "Sweep me off my feet."

They stared at each other, and Bucky looked away first. Poking at his eggs, he ate. "Aren't you going ask?"

"What?" Steve asked, reaching for his glass of water.

"About my love life."

"Why would I want to know?"

"No one doesn't."

"And I'm the exception?"

"If you say so."

Steve stared, and leaned on his elbows. Looking over his folded hands to Bucky, he sighed, and folded them around his plate. "Why has no one ever swept you off your feet? I would expect every would want to."

"You said it before, I avoid people."

"I didn't say you avoid people-."

"You did."

"You're afraid of people." Bucky stared, "You make these - _mean_ assumptions towards people, you even make prejudices towards the people you don't even know."

"It's in my nature-."

"It's in your defense." He corrected, "I used to be the same."

"Sure." He scoffed.

"No, I'm serious." He swayed his hands, "I dated in my high school years, and I thought I was head over heels for this guy. He was - beyond the stars, and I gave him everything I had. I gave him my heart and my love."

Bucky stared, "You gave him everything?"

Steve nodded, "He was my first." He paused, "And after that, I thought - I would never love again. When he said we needed a break, I lost it. I didn't love again, and he'd say I love you, and I'd say it too but it had no meaning anymore. I pushed people away, people I didn't even know, and the people who were closest to me. I pushed them away and secluded myself in this little box that I called home." He scoffed, "Turns out this little box was called depression, and I'd been in it too long to even notice. After a year or so, I met some new friends, and I ripped that past apart. To _shreds_." He said, and shrugged. "Some people don't share things, not because they don't feel comfortable, it's because they believe that their lives are so dark and they believe that people are going to point at them and call them a freak or send them to get help. Everyone doesn't want to admit it, but when they need help, they don't want it. It's because we were taught as kids that we had to figure it out on our own, and we bring that conception with us as adults everywhere we go." He paused for a while when Bucky didn't know what to say, and shrugged again. "It's life; it gets dark, and it gets cold, but nothing it better than waking up another day, and kicking it in the ass to get that sunshine."

Bucky sat there, sulking in his own body, believing that his life was all trouble when in all reality - everyone suffered too. He picked at the crumbs of egg on the table, and lifted a shoulder. "How long did it take you to trust people again?"

He shook his head, "Too long; a year and a half. It felt like forever." He shrugged, "Believe me when I say, what you put out into the world comes back to you. I suffered Hell because of that, and I ended up alone. Then I put it aside, greeted people, got to know them, and now - now I'm fine."

"Fine is something you say when you're not okay."

He pressed his lips together, "I'm _fine_." He said lightly.

"Even after your date last night?"

"He didn't deserve me."

"He doesn't, but that doesn't mean you thought so." Having eaten half his plate, he drank down his glass of water, and stood up. Steve looked up at him. "Thank you, for last night, and for this morning."

Steve smiled softly, and Bucky hating turning away from that sad smile of his. His shoes had been tucked under the bed, and his sweater hung over the door. Throwing it on, he looked back into the kitchen where Steve was putting Bucky's plate into the sink and his own. Glancing over, Bucky walked up giving him a tight hug. Hugging back, they were quiet.

"Take care of yourself." Bucky said, squeezing him once, and letting go.

"You too." Steve said, looking down at him.

 

Before he could separate, Bucky pressed a kiss to the side of Steve's mouth, and cupped his cheek. Steve pressed his hand on Bucky's and closed his eyes. Stepping back, Bucky walked off without saying another word or glancing back. If he did, he didn't think he could ever be able to leave the apartment or Steve for that matter. Closing the door after him, Bucky glanced back this once and pressed the button to the elevator. Steve waited by the door for a moment, didn't lock it and hoped Bucky would come back for something, make up an excuse that he'd forgotten his wallet or phone. He knew he didn't.

 

Stepping out into the nipping cold air, Bucky looked around before taking for the streets he knew and finding his car. Steve watched him go, and mourned beautiful, forbidden hours with a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! Happy holidays!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

When Bucky had gone to work the next few days, they'd sent everyone home early like they'd been doing, and he'd gotten a call when Natasha and Clint were leaving. Saying as how much they loved him, and that they'd bring back something for him. Sam visited before he left, driving all the way down to his Mama's, and taking his packed suitcases with him. Snow was promised around Christmas, and a blizzard of maybe around seven to eight inches of snowfall. He wasn't hoping for it, now that he was alone, he didn't really have anything to do after work. Sure, he'd watch TV and occasionally leave to eat out but other than that, he didn't really have anyone to visit.

 

When it wasn't severely cold, he parked out by Central park, and took a walk. The trees had lost their leaves, looking barren, and naked. The sky was always grey now, no signs of snow ever falling though, and the grass was still a dark green. Except for when the temperature dipped, the grew would have a white dew and mist on it from freezing. But he walked, hands in his pocket, scarf around his neck, and hood pulled up. The lights on the trees wouldn't go on until around five, when the sun would go down, and the ribbons wouldn't glow bright red until happy laughter sprang into the air. The Wolman Ice Rink would be crawling with dates and families skating, the Rockefeller Center and Plaza decorated with a grand tree, lights, and music, Dyker Heights would just be completely bedazzled with twinkling Christmas lights.

 

And he was walking alone in Central Park, people passing, and kids running around from statue to statue. He sat down, listening to the silence, and crossed his hands over his chest. Staring out to the field where the kids were still throwing Frisbees and adults playing with crafts and helicopters with GoPros attached to them, he missed the crowd passing by, and stopping right in front of his line of vision stood Steve.

 

"James?" He said, giving a smile, and Bucky looked at him almost dumbfounded. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Me neither."

Steve looked up and down the path, and furrowed his brow. "What're you doing here?"

"Sitting."

"Why? There's no one here."

"I know."

He looked to the group, laughing too hard to notice, and sat down beside him. He sat a moment, then leaned over. "This isn't really fun, you know that right?"

"I don't have anything else to do."

"Really?"

Bucky nodded his head, "My friends went out for the holidays. Two on a little honey moon in Italy and one back home."

"And you're here. Why?"

He shrugged, "I don't have family to go see. Even if I do, they're back home across the ocean." He looked to Steve for the first time, and it felt like forever. He never changes, he was always Steve, and no one else.

"What happened to the go getter I know? The one I met at the club?" He mocked.

"When the holidays come," he shrugged, "I change."

"Into a lump." He said before standing.

"It's not like I have anything better to do. I'd rather sit here, watch the seasons change, and enjoy it."

Steve looked out to the field, and sighed looking back to Bucky. "You're really going to do that?"

Bucky nodded slowly, giving a deep sigh, and Steve looked up to the sky.

"Lord have mercy." He sighed, and reached forward tugging Bucky's hands out of his pockets. "Come on." He tugged him up.

"What? No-."

"You're coming with me.

"Steve-."

"We're all going to the rink, come with us." Steve said, pulling Bucky's hands over his shoulders.

"I'm not a good skater."

"It's alright, I'll teach you."

"I don't want to go out there."

"You don't have a choice."

"Steve. Come on, I don't want to embarrass myself out there. It's bad enough that I'm all alone this Christmas, I don't want to make an idiot of myself and think about that too!" Steve tugged him along.

"Stop it, you're coming with me. We're going to skate, and we're going to have fun." When Bucky wouldn't cooperate, he crouched and threw Bucky over his shoulder. Bucky let out a yelp, and Steve happily moved along.

"Put me down. I'm not kidding."

"Neither am I. I don't want to be the only one on the ice."

"You won't, there are other people there, you have your friends."

"You can't sulk all this time and just let the holidays pass you, James, you have'ta live for it. Next year you'll regret it."

"You don't know me-."

Steve propped Bucky down, and he caught himself off balance. "No, I don't. But remember that I know what it's like to live in a secluded little area of your head, and that it isn't beautiful." He said, "So, all I'm asking is that you come with me, and go skating with me. Just this once, and you can forget about me, and everything we know about each other."

Bucky swayed, under pressure, and Steve blinked patiently. "Who would anyone want to forget you?"

Slowly, Steve smiled that little shy smirk, and wrapped his arm around Bucky's shoulders. "Come on." He said, as they walked along towards Wolman Rink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I need a Steve Rogers to pull out of my pocket and love. Steve Roger is so precious, protect him, and never let a bad thing ever happen to him. My precious Brooklyn babe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! I've been waking up earlier, and I have no clue. Maybe my internal clock is still waking up because of school hours, I don't know but I've been writing. I have some new things that I'm writing, and trying to shove the old, past due stories out of the door. Trying to start fresh, - anyways, I'm rambling. I hope your holidays were amazing, and your new year is going to be great and run the way you'd like. As always, remember that you are loved and very important. Please take care of yourself this upcoming year. :) Enjoy.

The rink was half full, people zipping by, and others going to their own pace. Steve had tied his shoes on already, and they were all putting them inside their lockers. Bucky had been staring across the rink as Steve helped him put on his boots. Looking up at him as he finished, he smiled and Bucky smiled back.

"I don't know about this." Bucky said helping him up.

"I'm the one teaching you, I should be worried." He smiled. "Just trust me on this, everyone falls. And they get back up on the ice, and they keep going."

"And if I bust a tooth?"

"I'll laugh."

Bucky smacked his arm, and Steve chuckled.

"Don't worry, they have paramedics around here all the time."

"Better not be lying to me."

"And I would lie to you, why?"

"To get my hopes up?"

"Believe me, your expectations are low."

"What-?" Bucky turned but his blade caught with the ground, and he tripped on dry land. He landed on his ass, and Steve just stared at him.

"You aren't even on the ice yet."

"I give up."

Steve smiled, and held out his hands helping him up. "Don't give up just yet, the hard part hasn't even come." He joked, bringing Bucky along. "Easy now." He said, easing on the ice. "Walk, then we can skate." He said, and held Bucky's hand bringing him down on the ice.

"I feel like a little kid. Especially with you holding my hand like that." Bucky tried shaking his hand off, and almost lost balance.

"See? You need me holding that hand." Steve teased, and Bucky glared holding onto the wall, and Steve's hand.

"Seems like your friends don't have much interest in hanging around."

"They never do. I don't bother with it." He said, "They have the attention span of a child, they're interested by one thing and then they focus on another."

"So, you chaperon them? How _old_ are you?"

"I'm twenty six."

"Man, you're old." He joked.

"And what? You're adolescent?"

"That, my friend, would be called pedophilia if so." He poked up a finger, and Steve shook his head. "I'm in my prime time, just at the peak of 23."

"You're not that far from grey hairs and hemorrhaging."

"Don't remind me," he sighed, "If I'm just close enough, then you're dust."

Steve shoved him, and he nearly fell. He laughed, grabbing him, and Bucky punched him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I forgot."

"Forgot, my ass!"

"Hey, there are kids around."

"Believe me, they're not all that innocent. You should hear the stuff that comes out of their mouths nowadays."

"I think it's all in your head, you were that age once too."

"Yeah, and I was quiet. Even then."

"Well, some things never change I guess." He said, now moving along slowly but progressively along the rink. "Have you always been here in Brooklyn?"

"Yeah, my whole life. And my parents before me, and their parents. They actually fought in the second World War, my grandparents. That's how they met. My grandmother was a nurse, and my granddad was a mean, old third officer. Got himself hurt, and they met. He always said how he thought he was dead."

"Why?"

"Because he'd prayed the night before that he'd get home, and he thought that God got it wrong. That my grandfather meant to bring him to Heaven, turns out he just fell in love with a beautiful woman, and was very, _very_ much alive."

"That's sweet."

"Yeah." He sighed, "He passed away a few years ago, my grandma said it was the most loneliest times of her life one time."

"I could imagine."

He nodded, and Steve went on to tell now.

"I never really got to know my grandparents, they passed away when I was young. I only got to see my granddad though, he was tough." He scoffed, "And I mean _tough_." He said, "My mom used to say that he would pick a fight with the nurses, and he wouldn't take his medication until the window was open, and he had his cup of coffee every morning. He wasn't allowed to have it though, because it was too strong for him, and it would hurt his chest. But they'd have to give in, and he'd suffer the chest pains just for the morning. She told me he once broke up a dog fight, I think she was lying though, because he never spoke about it like she told me he would about a lot of things."

"What about your grandma? You didn't hear stories about her?"

"No, I did. Every once in a while, my mom would have looked at me, and she would smile and said I reminded her of her mom. Said I had her eyes, and her smile." He smiled warmly, "I only wish I met her, you know, got to know her, and take care of her but I was too young to know about cancer and all that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it happens. You move on." Steve said, and Bucky brushed his shoulder against his.

"What about your dad?"

"Didn't know him." Bucky furrowed his brow, "He left when I was a kid, and my mom didn't talk about him. So, I don't know him."

"Think he's alive?"

He shrugged, "I don't care."

Bucky nodded, and they moved along, almost back at where they started. "Your mom, was she beautiful?"

"Yeah." He smiled, eyes distant like he were remembering. "She was _so_ beautiful. She'd sing in the morning, and she would dance around the table. When Autumn came, she'd wrap me up in this coat of hers, and she'd button every button up to my chin, and she'd smother me in kisses when I went to school, or when I was sick, and went to sleep. I was always sick as a kid, I had a bad immune system as a baby, and a kid. Asthma as a teen, and breathing problems as an adult."

Bucky smiled softly, and Steve sighed.

"In all, she gave me everything I could ever need to be able to move on every day situations. She gave me unconditional love, and I gave it to her with every breath and word. To the very last day."

Bucky stopped, and Steve stopped in front of him. "What happened?"

Steve pressed his lips together, and smiled softly. "She died of stomach cancer, we didn't have the money for the insurance, and she lived happy. That's all that ever mattered." He said, his eyes pink, "She died around Christmas; four years ago."

Bucky, heart swollen with love for this beautiful, paining creature, wrapped his arms around Steve, and softly cupped his cheek looking at him. "You are so strong."

Steve cupped the back of his hand, and closed his eyes leaning into the touch. He was so touch starved, he begged quietly for every ounce of love he deserved so much.

"You deserve the world, Steve."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

He shrugged, "I don't want the world. It's broken and unhappy."

Bucky cupped his other cheek, and stared into his eyes. "It's broken and unhappy because people made it. But people like you, great people with huge hearts, they fix things in this world, and they cause wave of mass effects of goodness every once in a while. You deserve the world, because I know you'll fix it."

Steve held his hands over his cheeks, and closed his eyes.

Bucky stared at him, "Are you cold?"

Steve shook his head, "Just lonely." He said lowly, and held Bucky's hands closer when he tried peeling them away. Clasping their hands together at their sides, Bucky leaned forward resting his head against Steve's shoulder, and closed his eyes when Steve pressed his cheek against his forehead. "Can you stay with me for the night?"

"I don't stay for breakfast though." He joked, and Steve smiled softly.

"I won't make you stay for breakfast." He said.

 

Bucky looked up over Steve's shoulder to the crowds passing, and stared at the twinkling lights. The stars were out shined by the artificial lights, and the white ice illuminated the street lamps and rainbow of florescent lights. He felt Steve card his fingers through his hair, and keened into it. A fire burned in his chest, this unforgettable feeling of being loved again. But Bucky didn't know Steve, he only saw him twice, and once he was hung over for half the night. It wasn't love; it was obsession, it was loneliness, it was touch starvation, it wasn't love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve: *always heart eyed emoji*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! Chapter update, I'm out with a friend having some coffee and bonding. I've been sheltered in for too long! So, while I'm out enjoy some feels and chapters. :) As always, remember that you're loved and so, so very important. Take care of yourself. :)

It wasn't love when they'd shuffled off the ice and traded their skates for their shoes and quietly pulled them on, and walked on flat, easy land again. They'd wandered towards Bucky's car, and Steve pulled him under his arm, shivered in the car together, and laughed until they were warm. It wasn't love when they'd walked into the apartment and they'd threw off their jackets, and shoes, and scarves over the couch or when they laid down facing each other on the bed, and Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky's closing his eyes.

He didn't think of love when he pressed his hands to Steve's face, and him leaned forward kissing him softly and lovely. Their breaths intertwined as they panted growing restless filled with such a burning feeling, hands on each other, mouth whispering sweet, _sweet_ nothings and promising bruises. The blankets scattered, body's bare, they looked each other in the eyes, and _knew_. That this was love. That it was as true as the blonde's very existence, or the brunette's. Two lovers of the world, bound together by coincidence, something was going to snap back. Question is: what?


	9. Chapter 9

Slowly waking up the next morning with aching bones, a sweet taste like honey on his lips - Bucky slowly rose off the bed. Looking over his shoulder to the heavily sleeping Steve, his arm leaning over the edge of the bed, back slowly rising and falling he'd admired him. Pulling on his clothes quietly, looking at the time, he scrambled for a piece of paper, and wrote down a little note on the back putting it cruelly on Steve's cheek. Walking off, he closed the door behind him gently and turned.

 

The next door neighbor already had been awake and standing there, a small hand dog on a leash sniffing the halls. He gave a smile.

"Well, good to see you awake." She said.

He nodded awkwardly.

"When I first met you, you were drunk to your eyeballs."

He shyly laughed, "Wasn't the best of my days."

"We all have them." She turned for her door, and he found his cue to leave. "Hey."

He turned as the elevator doors opened.

"And when you _spend the night_ , make sure to take a shower the next morning." She mumbled, "You smell like sex and hormones."

 

He forced himself into the elevator quickly, and closed the doors. Rubbing his eyes, he smelt his shirt and it didn't smell like sweat - it smelt like _Steve_. Beautiful, blonde, loving Steve. His taste still on his lips, finger traces on his arms and back, and whispered promises and submissions all in his mind. He was sweet and ripe, so easy to tug at the seams, and ease apart with delicate hands. Lips parted singing songs and praying with every moan and throat belching sob, Bucky was weak at the knees. Heading home, taking a shower, and getting to work the boys teased him about having a lightness in his step, and hickies on his neck. He'd ignore them, and by the time Steve woke up the side of the bed where Bucky had laid was cold.

 

He reached up looking at the paper, and smiled. _Had to go to work, early shifts, call me. xxx-xxx-_ _xxxx_ _. -Bucky_

Getting dressed himself, he'd headed out. When Bucky had gone on break, and come back he was on fork lift duty with the heavy loads. The guys helping out with the crates.

"Hey, Buck, me and the guys are going out tonight. You should come."

"Why should I?"

"I don't know, maybe you could catch a date." He'd shrugged, he was a good guy, Bucky guesses, Brock wasn't so bad. "Going out for drinks before the families come down for the next day."

Christmas Eve was a day away, he couldn't believe it. Not a drop of snow yet over Brooklyn. "I think I'll pass."

"Why not?"

"I already have a date," he lied. "I'm busy."

"Tonight?"

"You better hope so."

"Well, if you change your mind, just give us a call."

Bucky's phone gave a ring, and he reached for it. "Yeah, yeah." He answered, " _Yellow?_ You've reached the voicemail, leave a message. Won't get back to you."

"What a greeting."

"Who's this?"

" _Steve_." Bucky's heart gave a spring, "Hope you didn't forget about me that easy."

"No, no, no. I didn't. It's just - didn't know you would call this early." He said, looking at the time. It was already six o'clock.

"Who's that? Your _date_?" Brock picked on, and Bucky waved at him.

"I wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner tonight, if you're not busy."

"No, no, I'm not. What'd you have in mind?" He asked as Brock jumped on the back, and Bucky carefully lifted and started moving along with crates.

"Maybe this little café along the main Street? They have the best hot chocolate. Or we could just have dinner at my place? Spaghetti and all the jazz?"

"Sounds great." Both Brock and Bucky said, and Bucky stopped the fork lift, turning to bat him away from the side of the phone.

"Who's that?"

"Just a friend of mine. I'm actually still at work."

"Oh! I didn't know, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be. I don't mind, and the boss doesn't mind, as long as we're working."

"Totally does." Brock said, and Bucky glared at him as they went along again.

"Well, I should probably let you go, I don't want you to get in trouble."

"I don't mind!" Bucky said.

Steve laughed, and he felt his heart soften instantly. "Get to work, see you tonight."

"Bye." He said, smiling as he hung up.

Brock whistled and shook his head, "You sound hung up on this guy."

"Shut up." Bucky lifted the crates onto high shelves and backed up.

" _I don't mind._ " He mocked.

Bucky turned around, swinging at him, and missing.

Brock shook his head, stepping around the lift. "You know, last time I saw you this strung up - _you,_ my friend, were ready to settle down."

"That was before."

"And what's now then?"

He shrugged, "We're just friends."

"Come on, even I know it's not."

"I don't need your opinion." Bucky said, and Brock jumped up moving back through the stock garage.

"Face it, you're falling in love again."

"I've only known the guy for a couple days."

"Yikes! And it's like you'd be his heart donor if he needed one."

Bucky shook his head.

"Was he the one who, uh," he smirked, pinching the hickey on his neck, "gave you hickies?"

"Stop that!" He swatted his hands off, and sat tall. "I don't have to tell you twice; we're _friends."_

"Friends don't sleep with each other, sexual or not. Let alone with that fact, one's who have only known each other for a few days."

"You can sit here and lecture me all day about this, I'm not taking your word for it."

"Fine." He shrugged, sighing loudly. "Was he at least any good?"

Bucky stopped the lift, and turned in his seat. "Get off."

"What!"

"Get out!"

"Come on Buck, you're my only friend who digs chicks and sucks dicks. I don't know anyone else who does."

"I'm not going to have a talk with you about this, so either get to work, or get the Hell off."

"Alright!" Brock said, and Bucky turned around. Shaking his head, they returned to work, and he kept pressing it. "What's the name?"

Bucky stared confused, lifting a box up.

"The guy you met. Your friend. What's his name?" He asked, waving his hand around, lifting a box too and following.

"Steve."

" _Steve."_ He said, "Your average _Steve_ or there's something different about him?"

"What?"

They crossed the floor, and placed down the boxes by the loading docks as others moved them into the trucks.

"Well, your average Steve is someone who goes to work, comes home, has a meal, and reads a book before bed. The other, well, isn't like that."

"That's judging someone based on their name."

"It's not rascist, and don't say it is." Brock warned, "I'm just saying my mind." They walked back to the boxes. "So, which is it?"

"He's different."

"How?"

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't need to tell you!"

"But it'd be nice to share it with someone, wouldn't it?" He did have a point, everyone was gone, and he had no one to approve of his actions or dismiss them. "What's he like?"

"Are you going to judge me for picking a different _Steve?"_

"More like parent. I want the best for you, and only the best."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious!" He said, sincerely kind of interested.

"You really want to know?"

"It'd make me feel better about your safety in knowing. You just met the guy, slept with him, and now you're looking at the world through lover's eyes. I want to know how quick a guy can find it without looking."

Bucky contemplated about it, if he told Brock, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just tell someone about him. Steve was all sorts of wonderful, and he deserved to be praised, and worshipped, and befriended. When they'd walked back to the boxes, it was almost seven, and Bucky sat down drinking his water. Brock smoking a cigarette by the garage door.

"His name is Steve Rogers." He said finally, and Brock looked over.

"Oh, really?"

He nodded, "I met him at a bar, some _horrible_ get together my friends made up just before they left for the holidays." He waved his hand. "I went to the bar, sat down, and he sat down beside me. We started talking, and-," he shook his head in content disbelief, "Out of my whole life in Brooklyn, I've never met someone for so little time and know that I wanted to spent my entire day just listening to what they say, and just hearing their thoughts even if they were just rambling."

Brock listened, momentarily stopping to puff a smoke, and watch it disappear.

"He's 26, lived in Brooklyn his whole life. He lives alone, in this little apartment that's just - _him._ He has all these old books in his living room, and he's read all of them, with these comics he has stashed under the bed. And, you know, he goes to work as an Art Therapist, does morning, and early afternoon classes." He smiled softly. "He's just this open book, and he knows it, and he says it all the time. He told me about his mom dying four years ago, and not knowing his grandmother, and his hard headed grandfather." He scoffed, "He used to be sick as a kid a lot, had asthma then and now, but it doesn't really stop him."

Brock watched him now, the cigarette burning in his fingers.

"He helped me, a complete stranger, the night I went to the party. I was drunk after," he laughed, "You won't believe me but he'd gone there with his date, right? His date left him, and that's why he came over to the bar for a drink. He stood because he wanted revenge on them, so we went out dancing, and - and he kissed me." He said, staring at the ground.

"Did he kiss you, or did _you_ kiss him?" When he looked at Brock, he'd been smirking. "I'm sorry, it's just too hard to tell if you're telling the truth about that."

Bucky paused, and shook his head. "He kissed me."

Brock nodded in disbelief, "Assured." He mumbled, and cleared his throat. "And, so you took him out, and got freaky with him?"

"He asked me out; to the Wolman Rink, and we - we skated."

"And - the freaky bit?"

Bucky shook his head, "This is why I don't share things with you." He said, turning to walk off.

"Look, Bucky, I'm just joking with you." He said, grabbing his hand. "Relax buddy, I'm just kidding. No need to get your panties in a twist." He threw an arm around his shoulder. "I won't make no jokes anymore."

"Doubt that."

"Hey. No jokes." He promised, and patted his arm. "But - sometimes something's are hard to tell with you. You say one thing and mean another."

"No I don't."

"Listen, listen." He said, "The only reason why I say this is because, well, you say you're not in love but - you allowed the guy to sleep with you, make _love_ to you. That's got to mean something."

"It wasn't making _love_ , it was sex!"

"That you obviously cared about. You're sitting here telling me about the guy's mom for crying out loud, no one talks about their mom unless _a_ they're a momma's boy, or _b_ they're comfortable with you." He said, "He met you a few days ago, took you home, and you kept at it. Talking, going on dates, having sex - love or not -, you care about him. He has your number! No one night stands have your numbers unless they take it forcefully."

Bucky stared.

"You know this guy's past, and his present. I think he's already weaving you into his future by the sound of it. You're smitten, and you just can't handle being dumped back into that hole you dug yourself out of all those years ago." Brock pointed at him, "That's what life is about, it hurts and it makes you want to die sometimes - but things like _love_ bring hope, they make us go on with every day, and fight. You're going to regret saying you're not in love, because if you keep saying it - the Big Guy will make it happen, and you'll be alone again."

He dropped his arm, and shrugged.

"If you don't want to get your hands cut and knees scrapped and play the game right, don't sign up for it." Everyone was already leaving, and Bucky stood there a moment more feeling the breeze from the garage door behind him. People clapping his back, and bidding him goodnight - and he was just standing there.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! Chapter update! I woke up to an early work shift, and I'm exhausted from that and trying to clean my messy room too. Someone shut the power off, thank god I wasn't writing! Well, anyways enjoy. And as always, remember that you're loved and so, very important. Please take care of yourself this year. :)

When Bucky had gotten half way home, his phone buzzed with a message, and - he ignored it. Something in him was contemplating if Brock was right, maybe he was stepping too far into the doorway, and he'd get his foot caught in it. But the overwhelming feeling he had when he was with Steve, it was amazing, heart stopping warmness surrounds him. He'd opened his door, and threw his keys aside slouching into the bed. Staring across it, his phone buzzed again and he looked at it:

 

_Steve: Hey, do you want me to pick you up?_

_Steve: It wouldn't be a problem, I don't mind. :)_

 

Letting it fall from his fingers, he closed his eyes. His heart thumped against his chest and against the bed, he needed an alternative away from this idea and - not Steve, what could loving, caring Steve ever do to him? Put him in an awkward position between moving too fast? Make him believe he was maybe ready to settle down? Take his heart, and poison his mind with every little piece of Steve crammed so painfully into his head? Steve would never do such a thing, but it was there; the images, his voice, his hands, his eyes, they were all there. If he went over, he'd be in an awkward dilemma - in land he didn't know.

 

He'd be better off on his own turf, despite having Steve needing to drive home.

His phone gave a ring again, and this time it was a call for the unanswered minutes passing. He stared at the Caller ID, no picture but Steve's name written in. He paused, listening to it ring again, and pressed answer. Slowly he brought to up to his ear, and Steve was breathing so softly. "Yeah?" He said weakly.

He was always so charming and handsome. "So," Steve trailed off, shoving on his shoes. "Where are we headed? Like I said I know this little café along the main roads, and I've been wanting to try it out for a bit, but I'll probably just go there when the ball drops or something."

He rambled on, and Bucky couldn't find the will to tell him he was.

"Or we could go to this new sub shop down by the Park, open until eight so if we hurry we can catch dinner."

Bucky beckoned him, "Steve, steve-."

"Yeah?"

He paused, "I don't think I want to go out tonight."

"It's not that's cold." He chuckled.

"I know. I'm just not in the walking mood."

"Well, alright. You could always come over, and have dinner with me."

Bucky protested.

"Or I could come over, and bring dinner."

Bucky felt his heart wheezing again, and he closed his eyes listening to him go on. "No, I don't think-."

"Are you allergic to anything? Don't want to get something you're allergic to or don't like."

"No, Steve, I'm not."

"Good. That's good."

"Look, Steve, I-," and he realized he didn't have anything to say yet.

"Yeah?"

He paused, "I haven't cleaned yet."

"It's alright. I don't mind, I've had worse days I can bet." He chuckled, and Bucky pushed his face into the mattress in self loathing. "So, your house?"

Bucky lifted off the bed, sitting with his back against the head board. "I'll send the address." He said, without further word, and hung up. Texting his address, he threw his phone aside.

 

What was he going to say? What was he going to do? He sighed, running his hands down his face. Steve was coming there to have dinner, would he say something about Bucky's facial expressions prior to having dinner? Would he be kind as ask what's wrong after? Did Bucky want to tell him about what was going on in his head? Should he be kind about it or severe all ties and possibly eat alone for the rest of his life? He didn't know. At a loss, he at least cleaned up the dishes in the sink, straightened out the living room, cleaned his bedroom, and pulled on a sweater changing his work pants for some suitable joggers. The time came.

 

There was a ringing and pressing the buzzer, not long after Steve followed down the hall, and knocked on the door. Bucky answered, opening it, and Steve was just beaming.

"I brought all of the above." He said upon walking in, and standing in the living room. "Pasta with meat sauce and meatballs, garlic bread, and kindly -," he turned to Bucky, "Burgundy wine for the finish."

Bucky directed him to the kitchen, grabbing plates, and sat at the small two seater table. The boxes on the counter feet from them as they both served themselves a plate. Steve watched him the entire time.

"So, anything interesting happen today?"

Bucky shook his head, "No."

"No?" Steve questioned, "Well, in class today we went over how Michaelangelo, you know the artist? How he shaped the centuries with his sculptures and paintings. We also went over his past life, you know, how when he was growing up his family was in the banking business, and his dad took a position in the government in Florence. How when he was six he had to move in with his Nanny and her husband because his mom had died from illness." He frowned, "And how his dad didn't approve of him painting but when he'd had apprenticeship and gone to school, he allowed him to do so and practically got him a job as a painter."

"Sounds great."

Steve stared, leaning on his hand as he chewed. "Were you listening?"

"Every bit."

Steve nodded slowly, reaching for his glass of wine, and stared again. "You alright?"

And Bucky's stomach dropped. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

Bucky looked him in the eyes, and maybe Steve could see it, maybe he couldn't, but he knew he was lying. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Steve put down his fork, wiped his mouth, and gently pressed his plate forward. "Want to talk about it?"

Bucky scoffed, "About what?"

"What's bothering you?"

"There's nothing bothering me."

"That's kind of hard to say when you're quiet."

"I just feel like listening today, I'm always talking."

"I like when you talk. Makes me feel like I'm not the only one in the room." He scoffed, and Bucky glanced at him again. "You're not nagging at me. I liked our arguments."

Bucky chewed slowly, reaching for his glass, and Steve watched as his lips sipped from the rim of the cup in thirst. It was eating him alive.

"Talk to me, _James_. What's going on?"

"My name is _Bucky."_

Steve nodded, "Then talk to me, Bucky. I can't read your mind all the time."

He put down his fork, and folded his hands into his lap. He waited for the words to come, but they never did. "Maybe that's what I'm afraid of."

"What?"

Bucky cringed, and kept his eyes away from Steve. He took breathes in-between. "Steve, I've known you for a few days, and I want to say they've been the best days of my life when no one's here and off with their own families."

Steve could already hear _but,_ echoing in his head. He knew it would come sooner or later.

" _But_ \- I don't even know you." He said, and it felt like a bomb had detonated in his chest, shrapnel stabbing Steve in the process. "I just met you, and - we bond really well, and we just - went together so closely. I-," his voice cracked, "The point is, we... I think we're going too fast into things, and that we're going to get stuck somewhere in the middle."

Steve stared at him, not a single moment wasted by a blink.

"Don't you think the same thing too?" He asked, and didn't expect an answer when it came.

"To be honest, - I was thinking about it, the night we -," he paused, "The night we had sex, but I didn't think it'd be such a big problem."

"It's not a problem-."

"Then what is it? If it's not a problem to you?"

He shrugged, fiddling with his fingers. "I just think - the place where we are right now is too much, and we should take a step back a moment. You know, be _friends."_

Even to him that felt and sounded horrible. Did he just friend zone poor, beautiful Steve Rogers and crush his heart? It wasn't his intentions, his intentions were good to try and preserve their relationship; not crush it! Steve got the hint, reaching over, and drinking the rest of his wine.

"So, you want to just be friends?"

From his lips sounded horrible, no longer honey and sweetness. He was hurt, in some way or another. Bucky felt his lips quiver, and his chest heaving in.

"Can you look at me?"

Bucky kept his head down, and shook his head.

"Bucky," Steve said, leaning forward, "Look at me, please." He begged.

Bucky frowned, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because if I do," he said, "I'll regret having said anything about it. And I'll hate everything again."

"Would you ever hate me?"

"Never."

"Good." They sat in a beat of silence. "Bucky, _please_ just look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you think we should be friends, if you don't - I can't help but do what I think is right."

"And what's that?"

"To love you."

Bucky didn't look up, fighting himself.

"Look at me, and dare to say that."

Slowly, Bucky looked up from his hands, and the table to Steve. Steve's eyes shook, color lost from his face, but not his cheeks. He was begging for a piece of severed rope to hold onto, but all Bucky was giving him was string.

Bucky straightened, preparing himself for the face of nightmares to come about losing Steve. He took a breath, and stared into his eyes. His innocent, blue eyes. He sighed, giving a shrug. "I think we should be friends." He whispered lowly.

Steve stared at him, slowly his face of hurt grew. His eyebrows raised, those puppy eyes growing bigger, and he pouted softly. He didn't know where to look at Bucky's face, he wanted to keep the image in his head, but of happier times. He nodded, gulping, and looked away. "Alright."

For a moment, they sat there and the silence shoved itself between them. Steve pushed his plate forward, and his glass with it. With every movement, Bucky's heart strings were being pulled. But why - _it wasn't love_. Steve stood, and Bucky stared at the seat across from him.

Steve stared down at him, keys jingling in one hand. "So, uh, call me when you want to hang out." He insisted, his voice wavering. "Or just - text me."

 

Bucky sniffled, and Steve knelt down momentarily. Reaching forward he cupped Bucky's face, and kissed the corner of his mouth. Lingering a moment, he clenched his eyes shut and pressed his face against Bucky's. Standing up, he turned for the door, and glanced around the room. Opening the door and closing it, he stood out in the hall beckoning himself back to confess everything, that it wasn't too quick, that we was feeling the same things of love and obsession and unconditional offerings and willing to do anything for his happiness. He just turned down the hall, got into his car, and drove home. Bucky put away the leftovers, brought the wine along, and slouched into bed. Didn't say a thing as he sobbed into the pillow, clutching the blanket. It wasn't love, it wasn't love, it wasn't love; so why was he crying after sending his _"best friend"_ out with the promise of only being that? The image of regret and sadness on Steve's face is one he could never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn you Brock for making Bucky believe in something that wasn't true! Humans, man, you say one thing and suddenly they all follow a belief. Unbelievable! :) Take care.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! Hope you enjoy these chapter updates. Its almost coming to an end and so is this year! Phew! I don't know if I'm happy or sad or anything at all, but this year I'm going to keep my resolution and make sure that it sticks. No more mistakes! :) Anyways, enjoy the chapters, and as always remember that you are loved and so important. Take care of yourself. :)

Being that it was the day before Christmas, Bucky didn't have to go to work. But even if he had to - he wouldn't. Wallowing in self pity and self loathing, he'd tossed and turned on his bed, in uncomfortable sheets, and cried. Why? He didn't know but came up with a bunch of reasons; he was alone for Christmas again, he had a chance at having someone around, he blew it, he made a new friend and lost them, he was an idiot - and the list went on. Night was infused with day, and he couldn't tell the difference behind his drawn blinds. When he woke up, his phone buzzed with _Merry Christmas_ messages from family over seas and long lost friends he'd remembered, especially from Natasha, Clint, and Sam. They'd sent photos of them all together with family, wishing him the best.

 

He didn't feel the best.

 

At moments in the morning, coffee steaming in his untouched cup, Steve would find moments to think about the loneliness surrounding the apartment. No longer angel touched by light and laughter, suspended in silence, he'd wander the streets as if he were a lost tourist. What did he become? What could have they become? Bucky was right, they didn't know each other truly, they were strangers. But some piece of him made an exception saying that it was the beginning of knowing him, but what was he to say now? It was too late.

 

Sulking over the _Merry Christmas_ and _Happy Holiday_ messages, and his heart would beat a second faster hoping one was from Bucky with a flimsy photo attachment of him being surrounded by friends at a party, and him being drunk off his ass, and just being happy. None of them were. He'd figured Bucky had found some friends to hang out with and ditched his phone behind somewhere, and that worried Steve. What if Bucky was somewhere he didn't want to be? What if he needed someone to just sweep him off his feet again, and take him away and he wasn't there? The most he could do was sit by, and wait.

 

Looking at Bucky's contact folder on his phone, he sighed heavily, and hovered his finger over the paper airplane to send. It was a message saying _I hope you're having the best Christmas, and don't drink too much eggnog! :)_ He'd been staring at the unsent message for a while now, and giving another sigh he dropped his phone on the table. What was the point? Reconnecting the severed bond, that was the point. Sending it, he stood up, and sulked into his bedroom.

 

It was like this for a while, Christmas Eve, and Christmas day had passed. There was no reply to any of the holiday messages or calls and voicemails. Days had begun to pass, and with every little hour spent they'd gradually gotten on their feet. Steve went to work every morning and afternoon as usual, painted for and with the class - and they'd noticed his painting looking a little sad on the neutral colors and blue sides, but they were still so beautiful and captivating. Bucky had gone out for walks, work having been cut since promises of a heavy snow fall around New Years.

 

With every snow fall, inch by inch, they'd watch it fall and wish the other the best through fogged windows, and wrapped in blankets. New Year's Eve was the next day, and Bucky was just walking into his apartment when his phone went off. His heart did a little jig, and he pulled it out. It was a requesting video chat with _Natasha and Clint_. He put down his groceries into the kitchen, and answered it after the long wait.

 

"Hi!" They sung, seeing him on the other side. "Bucky! We miss you!"

He smiled, leaning his elbows on the counter. "I miss you guys too." He sat down at the table.

"I hope you got our picture. We visited Rome today, went on a tour through the Sistine Chapel. It's to die for. You have to come with us next time."

He smiled wryly, and felt his heart hurt a little again with loneliness. "Definitely."

"So?" She smiled, when Clint promised he'd go take a shower, and disappeared. "What'd you do for Christmas?"

He scoffed, "Nothing."

"Nothing! Have we taught you nothing of partying?" She joked. "Seriously?"

He nodded, "I stood home. I've been home, for Christmas Eve, for Christmas-."

"You can't stay home for New Years-."

"I really don't think going out is a good idea anyways."

"How come? You could go to Times Square, watch the ball drop-."

"Really, I don't want to."

She stared at the screen, and pursed her lips. "What happened while we were gone?"

"Nothing." He smiled painfully, shaking his head. "Nothing at all."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He said quietly, losing his voice, and self control.

She stared at the screen, and gave a sigh, resting her chin on her hand. "What happened Bucky, tell me." She said, and just her voice was enough to unravel every hidden secret of his.

He shook his head, pressing his lips together tightly. His chest deflated, and he took a breath. "I don't want to," he paused, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Who hurt you?"

He scoffed, "I hurt myself." He said in vain, and is all he said.

"What happened, Bucky? Come on, tell me. Saying it will make everything better."

"Not this."

"Why?"

He inhaled, and his voice shook weakly. "Because I messed up beyond repair, and there's no way I can fix it." He said, and just the resentment and emotion he showed was something she'd seen before on him. It was almost practical that she knew.

"You fell in love again, didn't you, Bucky?"

He stared past the phone, avoiding it, and crossed his arm over his chest, holding the phone up.

"We've been over this before, Bucky, it's not a bad thing. You fall in love with people, you trust them, and they trust you-."

"But that was the problem." He said, glancing at the phone. "He did. He did love me back, he said it."

"And what happened?"

He shook his head, "I panicked." He threw his hands up, "I panicked, and I threw everything into the fire. I said we were moving too fast, and that we needed to be friends. You should've seen the look on his face, the regret and betrayal like I stabbed him while he was high and mighty. And the worst part is is that I can't go back there because this pity eating me alive from the inside and the anxiety that things won't be the same as they were. That we can't look at each other without thinking about the rip between us and the way we feel won't be the same." He sniffled, "I messed up."

"You didn't." She said, "You didn't and you know it, this is just the dark in you talking. You need to talk to him."

"No, no, I can't-."

"Bucky, listen to me." Throughout his protest, she spoke. "Things aren't always going to be dandy and light, there are pot holes and voids that will threaten to rip and tear at anything you have. You just need to hold on to that lightness and good, and make sure it never leaves." She said, staring at the screen. "You managed to fall in love in days, _days_ , and we weren't even there to see it happen so quickly! How it happened, I'm amazed, but don't let anything break you away from it. He means something to you?"

"I don't know."

"Does he mean enough to you to chase after?"

"I don't know." He sniffled, wiping his nose.

"Would you do anything just so see him again? Just to know that he's happy, that's your goal, right?"

He paused, "Yes."

"Then you need to stop crying, and fuss up. Get dressed, and make plans with him for New Years." Before he could shake his head again, she spoke. "Don't you want to spend the holidays with someone? You're alone Bucky, and as cruel as it sounds you need to stop trying to be the victim, and stand up for what you love."

He rubbed his eyes, and took easy breaths.

"Now I don't know this guy, but I'm sure you picked the right guy. You always pick the right people, and paths to go on. Is he good?"

He nodded, "He's good."

"And he makes you happy?"

"More than."

She nodded, "So, you're going to go to bed, because it's probably been a long day. You're going to wake up, and you're going to ask him out before it's too late."

"What I do if he says no?"

"You give him Hell, if he doesn't say yes, then he doesn't deserve any further attention from you."

He nodded, and she smiled.

"Get some sleep, Bucky."

"You too." He said, "Wait, it's New Years day already over there?"

"Yep." She smiled, "We're in the future morning, but don't worry we'll be back home soon. And hopefully, we'll get to see this date of yours."

"I hope so."

"Goodnight Bucky."

Goodnight."

 

Ending the call, he stared at his home screen, and sighed. Taking Natasha's advice, he'd headed for his bed and laid down on his back staring at the ceiling. Cars passed and he could see their lights against his curtains, taking heavy breaths, he thought about the day that would start on _his_ own terms and end by _his_ own actions. He wasn't going to let time, destiny, or fate, or anything get in his way this time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

By the time Bucky woke up it was already afternoon, and New Year's day had commenced. Taking a shower, and looking in the mirror, he did a good shave, brushing his teeth. Leaving his hair as is, he threw on his coat and headed towards the front door. Looking back to his lonely apartment, he sighed. There was no spirit there really, maybe he should fix it. No illuminating lights, no warm bright bulbs, no warm colors on the walls - he would fix it. Locking his door, his neighbor walked out and smiled to him.

 

"Good morning, James."

"Good morning. Happy New Year's."

"Happy New Year's."

 

He gave a wave and headed down the hall. Getting to his car, he paused sitting down inside of it. Turning the key, it gave a kick but only stuttered. He gave it some tries and groaned, the damn cold froze his battery! He got out of his car, and took a breath of the cold air. Looking back and forth down the street, he put his hands in his pockets and began down the street. He wouldn't let anything get in his way, he wouldn't let a frozen car get him down, he was going to tell Steve.

 

Tell Steve what exactly, he didn't know but as he walked he got an idea. Passing a deli, the heat flushed his cheeks a moment before he continued on towards Steve's apartment. Unnoticed, in a huddle of people, Steve sat at a table surrounded by loud friends in the deli. Getting up the walk way towards the building, Bucky's fingers and face were frozen beyond idea. He looked to the door and plucked the elevator button blowing at his fingers.

 

Walking down the hall, he pumped himself up and thought about it a while before stepping up to the door and knocking. There was no answer. "Steve?" He knocked again, "Steve? It's, uh, me. _Bucky._ "

The strange and yet blunt neighbor peered out of her apartment door, staring at Bucky's back.

"Steve?"

"He's gone."

He turned suddenly, and looked to her. "Excuse me?"

"He went out." She waved her hand.

"Do you know where?" He suddenly hoarded her space.

"Now hold on a moment." She said, waving at him. "Don't trample me."

"Please, it's very important."

"Hold on now, let me think." She said, looking at the ceiling. "He was going on this whole tantrum to me about his week, and he couldn't stop blabbering about it. Now, something tells me it has something to do with his newly put friendship." She eyed him.

"Me? What'd he say about me?"

"If I didn't already know, I'd say he was stupid enough to just walk away from it."

"What?"

"What? Is the word so archaic that no one knows it any more but the old people?"

" _What!"_

"Love." She said, "He was dumb enough to walk away from something he was so devoted to and something that made him happier. I've never seen him in such a down mood throughout this week than anything. I say it was his fault for just letting love slip from his hands, and putting himself in the situation."

"Where is he? Where did he say he was going?"

"Well, there were a couple places he was talking about. I don't remember most-."

Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes. "Okay, what _do_ you remember?"

"Well, for one, be said he'd meet up with some friends so he wouldn't be alone."

"Where?"

"Some sub shop down the way."

"There are tons of those."

"No, but he specifically said one where they serve little toothpicks stuffed into the sub with a flag because the original owner had passed away while he was in the army."

Bucky's heart murmured. "Wait, I know that place! I passed by it on my way here." He groaned.

"Well it sounds like you're having bad day."

He sighed, "Maybe I could just wait here."

"And miss the ball drop? Don't you want to be there when it does?"

He stared, "Well, yeah-."

"Then find him." She said, "There's no use waiting here and hoping he comes back. Who knows if he'll come home tonight. Go."

"What if he's not there anymore? Where else did he say?"

"I don't know, he said he might go to some café. He'd been waiting to go there but never did. I don't remember the name."

He hurried along, "Thank you! So much! Oh, and happy New Year's!"

She stared, and shook her head. "Damn gay kids." She smirked, and walked into her apartment closing the door.

Bucky half jogged to the deli, looking in through the window, it was empty. Walking in, he huffed over the counter. "Excuse me, excuse me."

The new renowned owner turned to him in confusion.

"Was there a man here? He's taller than me, blonde hair, blue eyes. His name was Steve Rogers?"

He shook his head, "No, I don't know."

Bucky deflated hanging his head.

"Wait," he paused, "I think so. But what's it to you?"

Bucky perked up, "He's a buddy of mine, I really need to see him, but he wasn't at home so I came here to maybe catch him."

"What for?"

He debated on saying. "Personal reasons."

He waved his hand. "Can't say if I saw him." He said suddenly.

"Alright, alright." He huffed, "That guy, you know, yay' high, named Steve. I turned him down when he said he's in love with me, but I realized that he means something to me too. And I just need to find him before the ball drops."

The clock already reading two o'clock behind him.

"You fell in love with _that_ guy?"

"Hey!" He furrowed his brow, "He's good for me, I like him."

"I'm not saying anything wrong with it. I voted for gay rights when the time came." He put his hands up, "But in all honesty, he seems like a sad kid."

"He's only sad because I'm not there. Take it the wrong way and call me a narcissist, but I need to find him."

For a moment, he stared at Bucky, and then he sighed leaning his hands in the counter. "He and his buddies got back in their cars, heading east. Don't know nothing past that."

Bucky sighed.

"Have you tried giving him a call?"

"No, but I will. Thank you." Bucky said, "Happy New Years."

"You too! Hope you find what you're looking for!" He yelled, and shook his head. "Kids."

Pressing the phone to his ear, he listened to the constant ringing, and went to voicemail. Giving another call, he listened to it go to voicemail again. He sighed, "Uh, hey, Steve. Give me a call, alright? I really need to talk to you about something important." Hanging up, he looked down the streets at a cross walk.

In passing cars, his reflections seeped into chrome colors and dark ones. Behind tinted windows, the group moved along.

Looking at his phone to the constant messages from people and none from Steve, he sighed putting it away. He looked through a crowd of people, "Damn it Steve, where are you?"

 

As the time continued to tick on, Bucky walked along towards Times Square and he looked among the camera crew and growing crowds upon crowds. Not a car moved in the area as they tried getting them all out of the way. The stores along the square were swarming with people buying snacks, and items on sale, and getting hot drinks to warm their freezing noses and chilly fingers. Moving through a crowd, Bucky wedged into a café line and got himself a cup of hot cocoa. Giving Steve another call, he felt his heart dwindling in light, and smiled softly to the voicemail.

 

_Hey, you've reached Steve Rogers. I am beyond sorry that I couldn't get to you but leave a message and I will get back to you. - But if this is Peggy, you can forget it._

 

Steve's voicemail gave a little joking chuckle, and he smiled feeling warm again. Putting down the phone, he ended the call, and put his phone on the table. Looking to the window, the lights of the Times Square shined back at his little lonely corner of the lively café awaiting the ball drop like he did. He figures that if he can't find Steve when it does, he'll just - have to fend of the night alone.

 

It wasn't that Natasha's words that struck a panic chord in him, he'd been sure he could fix it, but didn't want to wedge the situation down even more. With that small ounce of encouragement, the rock was tumbling again and his heart was racing. There was an undeniable bond between them, and he couldn't say no - that his heart didn't break when he saw Steve's face when he said they shouldn't go on in the unnamed situation. And come to think of it, it had been practically two weeks in knowing Steve, and it wasn't that bad meeting people.

 

His only fear was falling in love, and not being loved back. But he had that - so what was the problem? The thought of commitment? The unfulfilled feeling of being single and being able to mingle without the fear of a partner in the back of his head? Simply, what if he wasn't enough for Steve? What if he found that out like everyone else had, and leave him behind with a squashed heart?

 

Bucky shook the thought off, and looked back to the crowds. Time was moving too fast, and he'd been sat there for some time sulking in not finding his knight in shining armor. He couldn't be home, because he'd too force himself outside and be around people, Bucky knew that. Bucky also knew that Steve would surround himself with those same friends he'd seen when they went to the skating rink. Oh, that skating rink. He smiled; the night that lead to sweet, savoring sex with Steve, out of all the things unbelievable was that night. It made his cheeks warm thinking about it.

 

Sipping his hot cocoa slowly, and looking to the window, he watched the people passing by. Loved and cherished by their own people, and he hoped that Steve would find someone in that crowd if he was alone, that special _someone_ , to love and cherish him. If only he could find him, if only he could turn around and see the line where people had wedged in with cookies and ideas in mind, that he could tell him everything, and know that Steve would always be there, and around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate when you look for something, and you can't find it but when you don't need something, you suddenly have the power to summon every lost item you were looking for like 3 centuries ago.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! Chapter update! I decided to write an epilogue for this story; a little cute, a little smutty epilogue. But - that's the next chapter. So, enjoy this update and as always remember that you're loved and always so important. :) Please take care of yourself this upcoming year.

As the time was coming down to it, Bucky had finished his hot cocoa, played games on his phone, and reluctantly got up. Looking among the crowds in the café, he excused himself leaving the café and stood out in the crowds. People huddled so close, stranger and friend alike, just to get a moment of game in the spotlights. Several photographers and news reporters broadcasted the moment, a turn of another year passing, and reflected on the good and terribly bad times in the year all written on a small paper in hand. He looked up to the glowing, color changing ball from above Times Square, and looked around. Everyone had someone, and seeing that he squeezed his way out of there.

 

Maybe he should go home, curl up, and hear about the stories to come about everyone else's New Years experiences.

His phone buzzed, and he shuffled to get it out. Natasha's caller ID showing, he walked towards one of the stores, plugging on ear, and listening. "Hello?"

"Hey! I just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were spending New Years somewhere other than your apartment." She said, "Where are you?"

"Times Square."

"Where's Steve? I want to meet him."

"I don't know."

"You lost him?"

"I never found him." He said.

"What?"

He glanced around, "I never found him. I couldn't get my car to start, so I walked over to his apartment. When I got there, he wasn't home but his neighbor told me he went out with friends to a deli."

"I can't hear you, it's too loud outside."

"Hold on." He walked through a store, a big glass window shining in, and he found himself in a candle shop. "I said when I went to his apartment he wasn't there, his neighbor said he was at a deli with friends, and when I got there he already left."

"Did you call him? That's what phones are for!"

"I tried, left voicemails. He's not picking up. I don't know, Nat, I think I'm about to go home." He sighed looking to the candles all around.

"No, you don't go home. You're going to keep looking-."

"And if he doesn't want to see me? What do I do then? Just - walk away?"

"He wouldn't do that, after what you told me."

"Everyone I've encountered said he was down, and you know that leads to anger." He looked to the window again, and sighed.

"If he's really that nice as you'd said, he wouldn't hate you. You just need to put your pants on, and do something about it."

"I hate when you say that."

"Well, you need to do something about finding him. Or you'll never feel satisfied."

"And how do you expect me to find him? Just stand out in the street, scowering for him?" He joked, and something in the crowd caught his eyes; his heart pitter patter against his chest.

"You sure as hell aren't trying hard enough, look, if we come back and you haven't figured it out by now. I don't know what to do."

Bucky stepped out of the shop, and stared, breath lost. "Natasha, I need to call you back."

"Why? I'm not done with you yet, we still need to-."

 

He hung up. Pocketing his phone, he crossed the crowds, trying to keep his eye on that moving beacon in the crowd, and excused himself. For one moment he didn't blink, didn't flinch over the loud music playing, or the yelling crowds. He stood still for just a moment and he lost that shining star, and he was stranded again. Excusing himself through the tightly packed crowd, he looked around and found nothing. Wen it began moving, he turned searching and in a moment of stillness - he stopped. In between the crowds, exiled in his own world, Steve stood while his friends took a group photo. All of them wedged into a picture with the ball in the air above them.

 

Bucky squeezed through, seeing them start to move along, and he trembled with anticipation. Yelling above the crowd, his voice was drowned out by so many more. "Steve!" He yelled over and over, but he began walking. Throwing his hand out, he hoped to grab him. His fingers clasped over someone's arm, and he stepped out of the crowd. Steve looked down to the hand on his arm, and the intruder. The intruder was no intruder at all actually. His face heaved in confusion.

"Bucky?"

"Steve." Bucky threw his arms up, and pulled Steve close. How strange it felt to be wrapped in someone's arms you hadn't felt in a while.

Steve hugged back, both savoring the touch with eyes closed, and hearts melting. "What're you doing here?" Steve asked when they strayed not too far from each other.

"I was trying to find you."

"What?" He said, leaning closely to hear.

"I was looking for you."

Steve pulled back, looking confused. "Me?" He pointed at himself. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I needed to tell you something really important. And if it means anything to you, you'll listen-."

"What?" He said, leaning in again.

Bucky looked back, "Come on." He said, pulling Steve's hand along. They moved along towards the café Bucky had been in earlier, and Bucky moved down to a secluded spot by the window. Now, it was quieter - now he could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

Steve stared, "Why were you trying to find me? Did you need something?"

Bucky inhaled slowly, and exhaled gaining his composure. He spoke, "I had a talk with a friend, and she told me these _crazy_ things."

"What-?"

"Just listen to me, you don't have to say anything." He said, and Steve went quiet. He took a breath again, "She was telling me all these things, and it got me thinking."

Steve stared at him with all his attention, glancing to his eyes every time gave Bucky's heart strings a tug every time. He was so _damn_ beautiful, and it was a shame he didn't know it enough.

"Steve, I walked my ass to your apartment, listened to some crazy lady go on about who knows what, went to some deli where the guy was so very stubborn, and have been sitting around waiting to just find you. I gave you a call but you never answered, and my car didn't start but it didn't stop me from coming here." He paused, "What I'm trying to say is that - I used all this energy, sat in a chair for several hours on end, and I can't believe I'm going to say this but - I can't stand what you make me do."

Steve raised his eyebrows, "What do you-?"

"I mean when you make me go out places, I hate when you try to make me social, and get out to go places. I'm not into social places, I've only got a couple friends, and the most they make me do is get up from the couch to get groceries." He went on, "And how you make me laugh, I hate that because when I want to be serious all I have to do is remember all those stupid things you say and I just laugh."

"Bucky, I don't understand a word you're saying." Steve clasped his forearms firmly, shaking him.

"I hate when you talk about - nothing, and I just listen to you. I hate how you make pointless things interesting, and that you're always saying how you were in a pit once, and you don't want me in the same spot. I just hate when you care for me, and when you talk to me and make me feel like I'm special, like I'm the only one who understands."

"Bucky-."

"I hate that I'm in love with you."

Steve froze.

"Because it makes everything so damn hard, and I can't stand it." He said, "I go one day without saying anything to you, and I hate it because it's one day I didn't spend listening to those dumb things you say that make me happy. Who knows how many times I've imagined scenarios where we'd just sit and be comfortable with each other's silence, or we'd have over breakfast, or just laying in bed together trying to fall asleep." He shook his head, "I'm losing my mind because all I can think about is how much I love you, when I don't even know you, and it _bothers_ me that I don't have time to know."

Bucky pressed his hands into the sides of Steve's neck.

"I want to know what you sound like in the morning, or how long it takes for you to get up because you don't want to leave. Or how every day goes when you come home from work, and how tense your back is when you lay down. I want to know how many sugars you take in your coffee, and what's your favorite books, what you do when there's nothing to do." He stroked his thumb over his jaw line, "I _need_ to know more about you, and I can't."

"Why not?" Steve managed, voice soft, and whispering.

"Because I'm afraid that you'll find someone better, like everyone else did." He said, just as softly.

Steve cupped his cheek, and Bucky carefully watched him. "I said before, I don't leave, people leave me."

"Then I know something about you." He said. "You're perfect for me."

Steve's chest bloomed with warm colors and love, Bucky leaning up, and kissing him. It was longing and lonely, arms wrapped around each other in fear of ever letting go. Pulling apart, they kept their eyes closed breathing over each other's lips.

Steve sighed, "Please tell me you'll stay tonight. You can't leave now."

"Wasn't planning on it. Once I found you, you had no choice."

"Oh, really?" Steve smirked.

Bucky smiled, "You couldn't say no to me. Even if you did," he leaned forward, lips touching each other's, "I couldn't let you leave me without saying goodbye."

"No goodbyes." He kissed him, "Never." He pulled Bucky impossibly closer, and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I hope this doesn't mean I have to get you a Christmas gift. Because I didn't."

Bucky chuckled, "No, no, gifts."

"Good, because I'm totally going to return the one I got for you, and get my money back." He joked.

Bucky batted at him, and Steve only kissed him more. From outside they could hear the count down starting, everyone yelling out, happily and ready. They stared at the ball dropping slowly, and both content with the end of their year.

"Well, it's too bad," Bucky said, "I don't have any one cute to kiss when the ball drops."

"Hey, me too. I found this guy, but he kind of ditched me back at this club. He was pretty cute."

"Mind if I have his number?"

Steve cupped the back of his head, leaning in, "You wish." As the ball dropped, they kissed, and the lights sparked, fireworks crackling, and everyone cheering. Everyone in the café bidding each other Happy New Years and giving stranger's hugs, and the two just kept to their own world. With clasped hands, and entwined fingers, not once did they let the new year ever separate them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love happy endings. :) Please leave your feedback and/ or kudos, I'd really appreciate you're input and how you liked/ disliked the story. :)


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, Ayh here! I hope you enjoyed this entire story and that you'll read it endlessly. I'd like to think some people do at least. Please leave a comment about what you liked or didn't like, so I could maybe critique it better in the future. Or just merely say "Hello", I don't mind. :) Stay safe out there, and be bold. Remember that you are always loved and important, and if you don't feel so important or loved, visit my tumblr page, and we could be best buddies. Everyone deserves a friend. :) You are loved, you are important, and you are relevant. In these times of need, be strong.

Shameless moans sounded from Bucky's lips as Steve's tongue relentlessly tasted every bit of flesh he had to offer, Bucky's hand entangled in his hair and his eyes closed in pleasure licking his lips. Every single kiss and every single bite aroused a moan from Bucky's throat. Giving one tug of the hair, Steve looked up at Bucky and smirked.

"If I didn't know, I'd say you were a masochist." He crawled up, kissing Bucky's neck.

"Easily said that when I'm done is when you leave."

"Tricking the system I see."

Bucky smiled pulling Steve down.

"Sad to say," he kissed Bucky's cheek, "The bills wont pay for themselves."

"Guess we'll have to move in and manage together."

Steve held up a finger, "Hold on. Weren't you the one who said no to me?"

"Shut up," Bucky pulled him back down, "That was before I knew what you were hiding."

"To be honest we've done this before, if you don't remember."

"That was you? I thought I was having sex with an old man, he was going so slow."

Steve gasped jokingly, "It's called _making love_."

Bucky shrugged, "Guess I didn't get the cue."

"You miss a lot of things. Thank god you're not going to college."

Bucky gave him a shove and he just sunk back to where he'd been between his legs, he felt an anticipated curl in his stomach. His phone gave a ring on the table top and they both looked up at it, reaching over Steve nibbled his neck.

"Let it go to voicemail."

Bucky freaked, "It's a video chat from Natasha."

"Who?"

"My friends, the ones who went to Italy."

"Oh, them. All the more reasons to ignore."

"I can't then she'll freak and keep calling."

"I can't believe you have friends who will call you several times because you didn't answer, I wonder who that sounds like." He joked.

Bucky shoved him and Steve sat back on his haunches as he answered the call, he kept Steve out of the video making sure to sound like he'd been just sleeping.

"Wait to take centuries to answer. What're you doing?"

"I just woke up." Meanwhile Steve was massaging his hands into Bucky's hips, and watching him with a smirk.

"Oh, well it's afternoon already. What're you doing sleeping?"

"I didn't work today so I wanted to sleep in." Half true.

"Well, we just boarded the plane back home and after the jet lag sleep - what're we planning together?"

"Together?"

Steve ran his hands over Bucky's legs, interlocking them behind him, and shuffled closer.

"Yeah, don't think you were going to get away that easy? We're going to have a belated New Years party."

"I didn't approve of this." Clint said sitting beside her, and she flashed the camera on him.

"Hi Clint." Bucky waved lightly.

Clint raised his hand lightly and put it back on his forehead.

"Clint's had too much to drink, considering the hotel was offering free drinks. I guess he underestimated the power of real Italian wine."

"When you put free on stuff it really should have a warning label, anything free is a hoax."

Natasha laughed turning the camera back on herself, "So, what'd you do for New Years?"

"I watched the ball drop."

"Oh. Anything else?" She raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"What about that guy? Did you find him?"

Steve raised an eyebrow, and Bucky glanced to him.

"Uh, that's a talk for next time."

"Why?"

"It's complicated."

Steve shook his head, reaching over grabbed the bottle of lube and nonchalantly opened it.

"Bucky." She said in a warning tone, "Don't make me come over there the moment we touch down."

"Please don't."

"Nat, you woke the kid up from his sleep and you're hurting my head. Give the kid a break." Clint said.

"Thank you."

Clint waved his hand going back to his sulking, paining lean.

"You two bother me when you agree with each other." Natasha mumbled.

"I could say the same thing."

Suddenly Steve was pressing himself into Bucky and without warning Bucky felt paralyzed with pleasure, he dropped the phone letting out a breathy gasp. He punched Steve square in the chest and Steve was smiling all fun and dandy.

"What're you doing!" Bucky whispered.

"I can't help it." Steve whispered back, "You're just here and so pliant."

Steve thrust his hips so sweetly and Bucky keened into the touch, he was losing his breath again and breathing heavily. "Stop it." He whispered, shoving Steve away from his face and picked up the phone.

"-We'll be home in about four hours, we've already moved connecting flights. So, we're set for home."

"We have one more connecting flight." Clint mumbled. "Then we're home."

"Right. So, when we got to Italy, what's the number one rule?" Natasha said looking at Clint.

"No more wine. Except for with dinner."

"Even then I don't think you'll be able to handle it."

Steve teasingly thrust forward, and Bucky pressed his lips together holding a sigh.

"You're giving me a headache."

"You have a headache already."

"I'm taking out my hearing aid." Clint said, doing as he promised.

"Sissy."

"What?" Clint glanced at her lips.

"Nothing." She smirked.

"You watch it." He pointed his finger at her.

She kissed his cheek and looked back to the phone, Bucky's face had flushed red. "So, our house or yours?"

"I'm not really up for dinner right now."

Steve circled his hips and Bucky pinched Steve's hand on his sides.

"Bucky-."

"Alright." Steve said leaning down and into the frame. "I'm sorry to say but Bucky's schedule is full at the moment and he'll get back to you when he can."

Natasha gaped at him and smacked Clint, Clint looked at her then the phone. "Who're you?"

"Steve Rogers, hi." He smiled brightly.

Bucky turned his face away, Steve still easing his thrusts against Bucky unnoticed by the two on the phone.

"You're Steve? The one Bucky's been talking about."

"I would hope I'm the only one." He glanced down at Bucky who's eyes were clamped shut and he was clasping his hand over his mouth as his thrusts jabbed down into him.

"Who's that?" Clint said after putting in his hearing aid again.

"That's _Steve_."

"Steve?" He looked at the phone, "Jeez! When I pictured Steve I pictured someone like all the others Bucky picks. No offense to either."

"None taken." He grabbed the phone and sat up. "Bucky's told me a bit about you guys, but I've been wanting to meet some of his friends. He locks them up for good and doesn't show anyone."

"That's Bucky." Natasha mumbled.

"So, lunch when you guys get here? How about around four when I get out of work? We'll meet at Bucky's and go out?"

"Oh, sure-."

"Great! It was nice to meet you guys, can't wait to get to know you when you get back. Safe traveling." He hung up, and on the other end Natasha and Clint were looking at each other in shock thinking _'think they'll last'_ and hoping they would. "What're their names again?"

Bucky gasped for breath, "Clint and Natasha."

"Clint and Natasha, huh?" He reached up kissing Bucky's neck, "Think they know we were going at it?"

"Not a clue." He punched Steve again.

"What was that for?"

"What're you doing?"

Steve smirked, "I'm doing my deed, after all I did come back after New Years."

"And sadly every day since."

"Oh, I can stop here. I can stop, and get dressed, leave the apartment, and go home." He backed up and Bucky kept his legs around Steve's lower back tight.

"You're not going anywhere. It's only eleven and work hasn't started yet." He leaned up pulling him down to kiss him.

"You are work."

"Too bad."

"I hate you." Steve kissed I'm.

"I hate you too." Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve neck, and endlessly pressed against each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care of yourselves; drink lots of water, take your pills, go outside, be nice. :)

**Author's Note:**

> More little chapters to come, I have a little posting schedule for it. I wanted to split up the story as a sort of count down until the New Year. :)


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